fete' 


s?n:^ 


~Xv 


^ 


A 


tihvaxy  of  t:he  theological  ^tminavy 

PRINCETON  .  NEW  JERSEY 

FROM  THE  LIBRARY  OF 
ROBERT  ELLIOTT  SPEER 


BX  5995  .C53  A3  1895 
Clark,  Thomas  M.  1812-1903. 
Reminiscences 


Ah 


THOMAS    M.    CLARK,    D.    D. ,    LL.D.,    BISHOP   OF   RHODE   ISLAND. 


REMINISCENCES 

r 


BY 

THOMAS  M.  CLARK,  D.  D.,  LL.  D. 

BISHOP  OF  RHODE  ISLAND 


SECOND  EDITION 


COPYRIGHTED  AND  PUBLISHED  BY  THOMAS 
WHITTAKER,  2  AND  3  BIBLE  HOUSE,  IN 
THE     CITY     OF      NEW     YORK,      MDCCCXCV 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  Early  Days, i 

II.  College  Life,     .                 ii 

III.  Seminary  Lifk, 20 

IV.  The  Episcopal  Church  Sixty  Years  Ago,     .  32 
V.  Change  in  the  Outward  Aspect  of  the  Church,  40 

VI.  Change  of  Tone  in  the  Church,   ...  53 

VII.  Life  in  Boston, 66 

VIII.  Removal  to  Philadelphia,      ....  77 

IX.  Return  to  Boston, 93 

X.  Four  Years  in  Connecticut,  ....  108 

XI.  Removal  to  Rhode  Island,         ....  120 

XIL*  The  Richmond  General  Convention,     .        .  124 

XIII.  The  Late  War, 138 

XIV.  The  First  Pan- Anglican  Conference,    .        .  153 
XV.  My  Experience  Abroad, 160 

XVI.  A  Few  Notable  Men, 173 

XVII.  Miscellanies, 190 

XVIII.  Bishop  Brooks, 206 


lU 


REMINISCENCES. 


CHAPTER   I. 

EARLY  DAYS. 

I  HAVE  been  asked  to  note  down  some  of  the 
reminiscences  of  a  life  already  protracted  beyond 
the  four  score  years  allotted  to  man,  but  have  shrunk 
from  the  task,  because  it  is  impossible  to  impart  a 
living  interest  to  the  record  without  seeming  at 
times  to  trespass  upon  the  confidence  of  private 
friendship.  There  are  few  persons,  of  whom  we 
care  to  know  anything,  who  do  not  in  the  course  of 
their  lives  say  and  do  some  harmless  things  which 
they  might  not  care  to  publish  to  the  v/orld,  and 
yet  these  may  be  the  very  things  that  give  tone  and 
color  to  their  character.  I  once  asked  the  dis- 
tinguished biographer  of  one  of  our  most  eminent 
bishops  why  he  had  left  out  of  the  narrative  the 
brightest  and  most  salient  features  of  the  bishop's 
character,  and  he  said  that  the  introduction  of  these 
peculiar  traits  would  not  harmonize  with  the  pur- 
pose for  which  the  book  was  written.  When  Whit- 
field's body  servant  and  confidential  attendant,  Cor- 
nelius Winter,  published  his  sketch  of  the  great 
preacher's  daily  life,  and  told,  among  other  queer 
things,  how  the  good  man  once  threw  the  hot  water 


2  REMINISCENCES. 

in  his  face  because  something  happened  to  irritate 
him  while  he  was  shaving,  many  excellent  people 
were  very  much  shocked  ;  but,  after  all,  the  honest 
narrative  only  showed  that  Whitfield  was  human. 
Many  a  tempestuous  Christian  has  been  comforted 
and  relieved  by  the  vigorous  outbreak  of  St.  Paul 
when,  amid  the  loving  salutations  he  was  sending 
to  his  distant  brethren,  the  thought  of  Alexander 
the  coppersmith  occurred  to  his  mind,  indicating 
that,  after  all,  the  inspired  apostle  was  not  altogether 
beyond  the  reach  of  our  ordinary  human  infirmities. 

The  sale  of  the  biographies  of  certain  distinguished 
divines  whom  I  happened  to  know  somewhat  inti- 
mately would  be  much  enlarged  by  the  introduction 
of  a  few  marginal  notes  here  and  there,  relieving  the 
somewhat  over-rounded  symmetry  and  grace  of  the 
saintly  figure  delineated  in  the  memoir.  No  one 
would  care  to  expose  the  weaknesses  of  those  whom 
he  loved  and  revered,  and  yet  out  of  these  very 
weaknesses  they  may  have  been  made  strong,  and 
their  grandest  achievements  may  have  come  of  the 
fiery  passion  which,  if  it  had  been  allowed  to  range 
without  restraint,  might  have  desolated  the  soil  in- 
stead of  making  it  fruitful.  Some  men  are  counted 
good  simply  on  the  ground  that  they  have  never  said 
or  done  any  imprudent  things,  but  they  are  not  the 
kind  of  people  whose  lives  are  likely  to  attract  at- 
tention. It  is  the  man  who  has  had  battles  to  fight 
that  the  world  knows  not  of  who  achieves  the  noblest 
triumphs  on  the  great  public  field  of  strife,  and  his 
name  is  not  one  of  those  which  are  "  writ  in  water." 

I  did  not  intend  to  make  any  allusion  in  these 
papers  to  the  period  of  my  childhood,  until  I  heard  a 


EARLY   DAYS.  3 

distinguished  clergyman  of  our  Church,  and  one  of 
the  keenest  critics  in  the  land,  say  that  when  he  read 
anything  in  the  form  of  a  biography  he  was  always 
more  interested  in  what  the  man  did  when  he  was  a 
boy  than  in  any  other  part  of  his  career.  This  must 
be  my  apology  for  occupying  a  few  pages  with  some 
reminiscences  of  that  period  of  life  which,  after  all, 
leaves  the  most  vivid  impression  upon  the  memory. 
When  we  have  reached  maturity  and  settled  down 
into  the  well-worn  grooves  of  existence,  there  usu- 
ally comes  a  series  of  years  very  much  alike  in  their 
routine,  and  unless  the  monotony  is  broken  by  some 
striking  event  there  is  little  to  distinguish  one  year 
from  another.  The  decades  between  the  ages  of 
thirty  and  sixty  may  be  the  most  eventful  portions 
of  our  life,  because  it  is  then  that  our  most  impor- 
tant work  is  done,  but  in  the  retrospect  this  is  the 
most  vague  and  indistinct  part  of  our  existence.  It 
is  not  strange  that  the  first  fifteen  or  twenty  years 
should  be  the  period  to  which  our  memories  cling 
most  tenaciously,  for  it  was  then  that  the  plastic 
clay  took  form  and  the  associations  were  enkindled 
which  determined  the  quality  of  our  being.  It  was 
then  that  nature  first  touched  us  with  her  brilliant 
coloring  and  wakened  our  souls  with  her  varied  har- 
monies. Are  we  ever  moved  in  after  life  as  we  were 
when,  in  our  childhood,  we  saw  the  bursting  of  the 
leaves  and  blossoms  in  spring,  and  caught  the  per- 
fume of  the  summer  fruits  and  flowers,  and  looked 
with  sadness  upon  the  decaying  glories  of  autumn, 
and  our  young  hearts  leaped  at  the  sight  and  touch 
of  the  icy  crystals  of  winter  ?  The  poetry  of  nature 
was   revealed  to  us   before  we  knew   what   poetry 


4  REMINISCENCES. 

meant — in  the  sunset  clouds,  with  all  their  coloring 
of  gold  and  vermilion  and  ever-changing  forms,  and 
the  diamond  stars  glistening  in  the  dark  and  impene- 
trable concave ;  in  the  sighing  of  the  breeze  as  it 
sifted  through  the  needles  of  the  pine  on  a  raw  and 
gusty  autumn  night ;  the  patter  of  the  rain  on  the 
roof ;  the  howling  of  the  storm,  the  solemn  roll  of 
the  thunder,  and  the  distant  moaning  of  the  sea,  as 
I  used  to  hear  it  in  my  childhood,  all  through  the 
night  watches.  What  a  strange  romance  there  was 
about  everything  then  !  I  can  hear  again  the  cry  of 
fire  at  midnight,  and  the  clang  of  all  the  church 
bells,  and  the  rattle  of  the  engine  through  the 
streets,  and  the  roaring  of  the  flames,  and  the 
shouts  of  the  firemen  ;  I  can  see  the  boys  rushing 
down  to  Plum  Island  to  see  the  wreck  that  had  been 
driven  on  shore  in  the  last  tempest;  I  recall  the 
feeling  of  awe  and  dread,  relieved  by  a  tinge  of  wild 
adventure,  when  we  found  ourselves  lost  in  the 
woods ;  and  what  is  there  in  after  life  to  compare 
with  the  sensations  we  had  when  we  saw  the  first 
great  military  display,  and  heard  for  the  first  time 
the  roll  of  the  drums  and  pealing  of  trumpets  and 
clang  of  cymbals,  and  all  the  softer  notes  that  tem- 
pered the  cataract  of  sound  ?  I  have  never  felt  the 
peculiar  sensation  which  comes  from  contact  with 
the  rich  treasures  of  song  and  stately  words  and 
eloquent  periods  that  I  was  conscious  of  when,  in  my 
school  days,  I  turned  away  from  the  dry  pastures  of 
"Enfield's  Speaker"  and  "Scott's  Lessons,"  and 
other  books  of  the  sort,  which  up  to  that  period  had 
been  used  as  text-books  in  the  schools,  to  revel  in  the 
luxurious  fields  of  Mr.   Pierpont's  "  American  First 


EARLY   DAYS.  5 

Class-Book,"  where  we  found  the  best  material  from 
the  best  authors  who  had  ever  written.  Seventy 
years  ago  we  had  no  such  embarrassment  of  Hterary 
riches  as  is  now  furnished  to  the  young,  but  we 
had  good  mental  appetites,  unimpaired  by  excess 
of  stimulants  and  superabundance  of  intellectual 
luxuries. 

My  early  days  were  passed  in  a  small  maritime 
town — the  smallest  territorially  in  Massachusetts — 
which  had  been  built  up  entirely  by  foreign  trade, 
which  in  former  days  had  a  flash  of  romance,  as  the 
ships  that  went  out  were  expected  to  traverse  a 
large  portion  of  the  globe  before  they  returned,  and 
bring  back  with  them  the  spoils  of  many  climes. 
The  barriers  which  now  obstruct  the  free  inter- 
change of  commodities,  and  have  reduced  the  exports 
of  the  United  States  to  a  lower  rate  per  capita  than 
those  of  any  other  civiHzed  nation,  did  not  exist 
then,  and  trade  was  allowed  for  the  most  part  to 
regulate  itself.  I  well  remember  what  a  delight  it 
was  when  one  of  my  father's  vessels  arrived  from 
Russia  or  Antwerp  or  the  West  Indies,  or  some 
other  land,  with  its  rich  furs  and  strange  wooden 
shoes  and  cocoanuts  and  yams  and  plantains,  guava 
jclHes,  limes,  and  tamarinds. 

There  was  a  famous  ship  in  Newburyport  called 
the  Golconda,  and  I  once  wrote  about  her  in  a  New 
York  paper,  expressing  my  wonder  as  to  what  had 
become  of  her  at  last ;  for  I  had  the  same  interest  in 
old  ships  that  most  people  have  in  the  fate  of  a 
favorite  horse  who  has  outlived  his  usefulness.  In 
a  few  days  I  received  a  letter  from  a  gentleman 
in    Boston,   informing  me  that  he   knew  what  had 


6  REMINISCENCES. 

become  of  her,  as  he  was  an  officer  of  the  vessel 
when  she  made  her  last  trip  to  San  Francisco,  and 
she  was  lying  to-day  under  one  of  the  paved  streets 
of  that  city.  Having  become  unfit  for  further  serv- 
ice at  sea,  she  had  been  converted  into  a  warehouse 
at  a  time  when  anything  that  could  be  used  for  such 
purposes  was  in  great  demand,  and  as  the  city 
gradually  encroached  upon  the  water  front  the  vessel 
became  submerged  in  the  soil,  and  is  now  buried 
there — an  appropriate  burial  place  for  the  Golcoyida. 
In  my  boyhood  the  town  had  become  a  very  quiet 
place,  and  the  days  of  its  prosperity  were  ended.  A 
devastating  fire,  the  war  of  1812,  the  embargo  that 
followed,  and  the  general  tendency  of  foreign  com- 
merce toward  the  great  cities,  combined  to  destroy 
the  business  which  had  created  the  town.  There 
was  no  building  going  on,  the  grass  grew  in  the 
streets,  the  people  were  living  frugally  upon  what 
they  had  already  acquired,  and  I  grew  up  with 
the  impression  that  the  world  was  finished  just 
before  I  was  born,  and  that  nothing  more  would 
ever  be  done  to  it.  At  that  time  there  was  no  indi- 
cation of  the  wonders  that  were  to  be  wrought  in 
the  nineteenth  century.  The  old  curfew  bell  rang 
every  night  at  nine  o'clock,  as,  it  still  continues  to 
be  rung,  and  all  the  people  in  the  winter  time  care- 
fully covered  up  their  fires  against  the  morning, 
when,  if  the  embers  had  gone  out,  no  fire  could  be 
had  until  the  flint  and  steel  had  been  brought  into 
operation ;  for  there  were  no  self-igniting  matches 
in  those  days,  and,  indeed,  nothing  else  in  the  way 
of  modern  invention  and  improvement.  We  had 
nothing  to  burn  but  wood,  no  furnaces,  no  grates, 


EARLY   DAYS.  7 

no  gas,  no  water  but  that  which  we  drew  or  pumped 
from  the  well,  no  ice  chests  and  no  ice  in  summer, 
no  lights  in  the  streets,  no  railways,  no  telegraphs, 
no  telephones,  no  agricultural  machinery,  no  anaes- 
thetics, no  photographs,  no  street  cars,  no  electric 
inventions,  no  ocean  steamers,  and  very  few  steam- 
boats anywhere,  and  a  hundred  other  inventions 
familiar  to  us  now  had  never  been  dreamed  of  then. 
There  was  hardly  a  millionaire  in  the  land  ;  our  huge 
cities  were  then  only  large-sized  towns ;  the  finest 
houses  in  my  native  town — and  some  of  them  were 
very  fine — could  be  hired  for  a  little  more  than  a  hun- 
dred dollars  per  annum.  The  highest  salary  paid  to 
any  clergyman  in  Newburyport  was  nine  hundred  dol- 
lars ;  very  few  people  ever  thought  of  going  thirty 
miles  away  from  home ;  and  so  things  floated  on, 
while  the  elements  were  brewing  to  produce  the 
social  cyclone  which  has  been  raging  ever  since. 

The  first  public  event  that  I  remember  was  the 
reception  given  to  President  Monroe  when  he  visited 
New  England  seventy-six  years  ago,  and  I  stood  in 
a  line  with  all  the  other  schoolboys  to  see  him  ride 
by  on  his  great  black  horse.  Six  years  later  I  was 
admitted  to  General  Lafayette's  bedroom  in  the 
morning, — my  father  being  one  of  the  committee 
to  entertain  him, — and  I  distinctly  remember  how 
kindly  he  drew  me  to  his  side  and,  taking  my  hand, 
talked  for  a  while,  closing  with  saying  that  if  I  lived 
to  grow  up  I  must  love  my  country  and  be  a  patriot. 

Sunday  was  not  a  very  enlivening  period  for  the 
children  of  those  days,  not,  at  least,  for  those  who 
were  brought  up  as  I  was,  in  the  straitest  fold  of  the 
Presbyterian   Church — the    only  real    Presbyterian 


8  REMINISCENCES. 

Church  at  that  time  in  the  State  of  Massachusetts. 
Sunday  school  at  nine  in  the  morning ;  public  serv- 
ice at  half  after  ten ;  a  short  sermon  read  aloud  at 
home  after  dinner — and  a  very  frugal  meal  it  was  ; 
second  service  at  two  or  three  in  the  afternoon, 
according  to  the  season  of  the  year  ;  liberty  to  stroll 
in  the  garden  a  little  while  after  service,  provided 
we  did  not  touch  a  flower  or  pluck  an  apple  from  the 
tree,  which  would  have  been  regarded  as  sinful  in 
those  days.  Then  came  the  recitation  of  the  Assem- 
bly's Catechism, — known  as  "  The  Shorter  Cate- 
chism,'* there  being  an  amplification  of  the  same  in  the 
Presbyterian  Confession  of  Faith  covering  two  hun- 
dred pages,  which  few  persons  would  be  competent 
to  commit  to  memory, — with  its  subtle  definitions  of 
Adoptioft  and  Effectual  Calling,  and  other  techni- 
calities, which  never  enkindled  in  our  minds  any 
great  amount  of  spiritual  fervor,  as  we  had  no  con- 
ception whatever  as  to  what  it  all  meant.  Last  came 
the  singing  of  hymns,  and  a  little  good,  plain,  simple 
talk,  that  came  direct  from  the  heart  and  free  from 
all  the  mystification  of  theology,  and  this  went  to 
our  childish  hearts  and  did  us  good,  and  made  the 
tears  start  as  we  all  stood  up  together  to  pray  (no 
sound  Presbyterian  ever  knelt  in  prayer  at  that 
period);  and  so  the  love  of  Jesus  reached  our  souls 
through  the  hearts  and  not  the  intellect  of  those 
who  led  us  to  the  cross.  The  provision  for  Sunday 
reading,  outside  of  the  Bible,  was  not  very  ample  in 
those  days.  All  that  I  can  remember  in  the  way  of 
books  which  we  were  allowed  to  read  were  a  volume 
of  religious  anecdotes,  not  over-cheerful ;  Foxe's 
"  Book  of  Martyrs,"  still  less  so  with  its  terrific  pic- 


EARLY   DAYS.  9 

tures  ;  Hannah  More's  tracts  and  narratives  ;  "  The 
Pilgrim's  Progress,"  which  we  accepted  as  authentic, 
although  it  contained  some  anachronisms  which 
puzzled  us  ;  and  the  New  England  Primer,  which  we 
did  not  devour  with  much  avidity.  There  was  a 
degree  of  gloomy  satisfaction  in  the  picture  of  John 
Rogers  at  the  stake,  with  his  wife  and  numerous 
progeny  surrounding  him,  as  they  all  looked  quite 
comfortable,  but  the  little  poem  which  followed, 
beginning  with  the  words: 

"  In  the  burying  ground  I  see 
Graves  there  shorter  than  I," 

illustrated  by  the  view  of  a  graveyard  crowded  to  its 
utmost  capacity  with  children's  graves,  did  not  serve 
to  inspire  us  with  any  sentiment  but  horror  and  fear, 
and  this  was  intensified  by  an  awful  dialogue  between 
''Youth,  Death,  and  the  Devil,"  which  it  was  an 
outrage  to  put  into  a  little  child's  mouth. 

This  was  just  at  the  dawn  of  Sunday  schools,  but 
as  there  were  no  parochial  schools,  the  children  of 
the  various  religious  bodies  in  the  town  assembled 
in  the  large  court  house  on  Sunday  mornings  to  re- 
ceive such  instruction  as  might  be  vouchsafed  them, 
and  then  at  the  close  of  the  session  they  filed  off  in 
procession  to  their  respective  places  of  worship.  I 
cannot  honestly  say  that  the  exercises  did  me  much 
good,  or  excited  any  feeling  but  that  of  extreme 
weariness.  Our  superintendent  was  an  aged  gentle- 
man who  had  in  his  earlier  days  run  a  distillery — a 
very  good  sort  of  man  in  a  very  dry  way,  but  with- 
out the  faintest  comprehension  of  a  child's  nature, 
and,  indeed,  it  was  difficult  to  conceive  of  his  ever 


lO  REMINISCENCES. 

having  been  a  child  himself.  My  own  teacher  was 
a  very  exemplary  and  quiet  maker  of  blocks  and 
pumps,  who,  after  we  had  recited  out  texts  of  Scrip- 
ture and  the  hymns  assigned  us,  having  nothing 
special  to  say,  very  prudently  left  us  to  ourselves  for 
the  remainder  of  the  hour.  The  children  of  this 
generation  have  occasion  to  congratulate  themselves 
upon  the  change  that  has  come  to  them,  with  their 
Sunday-school  libraries  and  periodicals,  and  proces- 
sions and  banners  and  entertainments,  and  all  of  the 
other  accessories  intended  to  make  the  school  both 
edifying  and  attractive. 


CHAPTER  II. 

COLLEGE   LIFE. 

I  WISH  now  to  say  something  about  the  four  col- 
lege years  that  followed  the  period  of  childhood. 
More  than  fifteen  generations  of  students  have  be- 
gun and  closed  their  college  curriculum  since  I  took 
up  my  abode  there,  and  what  has  been  the  fate  of 
my  own  classmates  ?  Very  unlike,  in  many  cases, 
what  might  have  been  anticipated.  Some  achieved 
distinction,  some  relapsed  into  obscurity,  and  not  a 
few  died  before  their  sun  had  reached  its  meridian. 

There  was  in  my  class  a  youth  from  the  country 
— a  quiet,  modest  boy,  who  never  did  or  said  any- 
thing very  brilliant ;  an  excellent  scholar,  although 
he  did  not  take  the  very  first  rank ;  noted  especially 
as  a  thorough  mathematician  ;  exemplary  in  all  his 
ways,  and  one  who  never  had  an  enemy  ;  gifted  with 
no  special  personal  attraction,  and  yet  finding  a 
place  in  the  hearts  of  all  who  knew  him  well,  but 
not  by  any  means  the  07ie  man  in  a  class  of  more 
than  eighty  members  whom  we  supposed  was 
destined  to  outrank  them  all.  This  man  was  Noah 
Porter,  for  many  years  the  honored  president  of 
Yale  University,  the  American  expounder  of  meta- 
physics and  philosophy,  the  inspirer  and  director  of 
thoughful  minds,  one  of  the  most  versatile  and 
copious  writers  in  the  land,  the  list  of  his  produc- 
tions forming  a  fair-sized  pamphlet. 


12  REMINISCENCES. 

There  was  another  man  in  the  class  who  sur- 
passed Porter  in  what  we  regarded  as  the  fire  of 
genius — a  hard  man  to  look  upon,  but  capable  of 
wonderful  scintillations  of  thought ;  an  ascetic  in  his 
habits,  reveling  in  the  delights  of  Attic  song  and 
Hellenic  eloquence ;  one  whom  we  all  thought  was 
destined  to  make  his  voice  ring  through  the  ages 
to  come ;  but  for  want  of  any  clearly  defined  object 
in  life  he  floated  about  in  the  void  for  a  while, 
gradually  exchanging  his  old  ascetic  ways  for  a 
freer  and  more  perilous  style  of  living,  and  ended 
with  identifying  himself  with  the  Charleston 
Mercury  as  one  of  its  editors,  dying  prematurely 
long  before  his  work  was  done.  This  man  was 
John  Milton  Clapp,  and  I  well  remember  how  for 
a  season  his  sharp,  incisive  words  in  the  nullification 
days  cut  their  way  through  the  land,  when  suddenly 
they  were  heard  no  more. 

Another  young  man  comes  before  me,  and  yet 
he  was  rather  an  old  man  for  a  college  student, — 
at  least  he  seemed  so  to  most  of  us, — a  man  of  a 
ponderous  build  and  by  no  means  of  a  graceful 
mold,  with  an  elephantine  tread,  and  hands  that 
would  not  seem  to  be  fitted  for  very  delicate  work ; 
one  who  was  not  eminent  as  a  scholar  in  any  depart- 
ment, but  most  eminent  for  his  holiness  and  devout- 
ness,  and  especially  for  his  earnestness  in  trying  to 
save  the  souls  of  his  companions ;  and  this  was  the 
man  who,  having  gone  out  as  a  missionary  to  China, 
at  last  established  himself  there  as  the  great  oculist 
of  the  empire,  performing  the  most  delicate  opera- 
tions with  an  unsurpassed  skill,  and  was  afterward 
appointed  United  States  Minister  to  China,  return- 


COLLEGE   LIFE.  1 3 

ing  home  in  his  advanced  age  to  pass  the  sunset  of 
his  days  in  Washington,  as  a  gentleman  of  fortune 
might  be  expected  to  do.  The  name  of  Peter 
Parker — Sir  Peter  we  used  to  call  him — will  not 
soon  be  forgotten  in  the  flowery  land. 

Some  men  found  the  niche  which  we  supposed 
they  were  meant  to  fill,  and  others  did  not.  The 
late  Professor  Lyman  H.  Atwater  of  Princeton  Col- 
lege belonged  to  the  former  class.  He  was  pre- 
ordained to  fill  just  this  position — an  able  man,  well 
versed  in  metaphysics  and  theology,  always  on  the 
safe  side,  never  driven  from  his  course  by  any  side 
winds,  never  eloquent,  but  always  sensible,  never 
enthusiastic,  and  always  earnest,  a  good-hearted  man 
who  never  gushed  and  never  allowed  his  feelings  to 
take  the  reins.  He  went  by  the  name  of  Jupiter 
Maximus  in  college  ;  his  bulk  of  body  may  have 
suggested  this,  and  also  his  somewhat  lordly 
manner. 

Some  of  my  classmates  became  eminent  in  ways 
that  we  should  not  have  anticipated.  A  youth  of 
high  accomplishments,  a  true  gentleman  and  a  most 
earnest  Christian,  with  a  poetical  temperament  that 
gave  a  peculiar  charm  to  his  writings,  will  live  in 
posterity  as  the  inventor  of  Langstroth's  improved 
beehive,  and  as  the  best  authority  in  all  matters 
pertaining  to  bees. 

Another  man  of  a  very  different  mold  lived  long 
enough  to  make  himself  famous  in  his  own  land  and 
abroad  as  the  Prince  of  Dudes,  the  patron  of 
dancers  and  actresses,  publishing  a  book  in  which 
he  revealed  himself  to  the  world  without  reserve. 
I  will  not  give  his  name,  but  those  who  remember 


14  REMINISCENCES. 

anything  about  Fanny  Ellsler's  career  will  readily 
recall  it. 

We  have  had  among  our  number  governors, 
judges,  generals,  members  of  Congress,  but  many  of 
whom  we  expected  great  things  died  and  left  no 
record  behind. 

Good  Bishop  Kip,  so  long  identified  with  the 
Church  in  California,  was  one  of  my  classmates — a 
model  of  gentlemanliness  and  grace,  and  also  a 
chevalier  without  reproach,  but  giving  no  premoni- 
tion in  former  days  of  the  work  he  was  to  do  in  the 
world.  A  lady  in  New  York  informed  me  a  while 
ago  that  she  had  in  her  possession  an  invitation  to 
the  Junior  Class  Yale  ball  in  1830,  printed  on  satin 
paper  in  elegant  copperplate,  with  the  names  of 
William  Ingraham  Kip  and  Thomas  March  Clark  as 
managers.  It  should  be  remembered  that  this  was 
sixty-four  years  ago,  and  there  has  been  abundant 
room  for  change  since  that  time. 

It  is  a  noticeable  fact  that  on  the  average  about 
one-third  of  the  Yale  graduates  entered  the  ministry 
in  one  denomination  or  another  sixty  years  ago, 
while  at  the  present  time  only  four  or  five  out  of  a 
hundred  become  clergymen. 

It  would  take  a  large  amount  of  space  to  sketch, 
in  the  most  cursory  manner,  the  of^cers  who  pre- 
side over  that  institution  to-day ;  there  are  enough 
of  them  to  make  a  respectable  college  by  themselves. 
In  my  day  there  were  in  the  academical  depart- 
ment but  six  permanent  teachers  and  four  temporary 
tutors. 

President  Jeremiah  Day,  the  compiler  of  a  well- 
known  algebra,  was  one  of  the  best  men  that  ever 


COLLEGE   LIFE.  1 5 

lived — wise,  prudent,  cautious,  and  yet  liable  to  be 
imposed  upon  by  the  students  when  his  judgment 
gave  way  to  his  kindliness  of  feeling.  He  was  al- 
ways ready  to  repair  with  promptness  any  wrong 
that  might  have  been  done,  of  which  I  have  in  mind 
a  notable  instance.  An  outrage  was  committed  one 
night  by  some  of  the  students,  and  the  supposed 
culprits  were  solemnly  expelled — always  a  very  im- 
pressive sentence,  as  it  was  read  out  in  chapel  after 
evening  prayers.  One  of  the  students  thus  expelled 
was  a  townsman  and  personal  friend  of  mine,  and  I 
knew  that  he  could  have  had  nothing  to  do  with  the 
offense.  Accordingly  I  waited  at  once  upon  the 
president  and  stated  the  case  in  detail.  He  listened 
with  great  attention,  and  then  said :  "  I  will  call  the 
faculty  together  to-morrow  morning  and  you  may 
appear  before  them  and  tell  your  story."  I  trembled 
a  little  at  this  prospect,  but  there  was  nothing  else 
to  do,  and  when  I  appeared  before  the  formidable 
tribunal,  in  my  verdant  simplicity  I  sat  down  in  a 
chair  like  the  rest  of  them,  when  Professor  Silliman 
told  me  to  stand  up,  which  of  course  I  did  with 
alacrity.  I  then  laid  the  case  before  them  as  clearly 
as  I  could,  and  after  having  passed  the  ordeal  of 
their  questionings  I  retired.  On  that  evening  the 
sentence  of  expulsion  was  revoked. 

President  Day's  case  is  a  very  encouraging  one  to 
young  men  who  may  suppose  themselves  to  be 
afflicted  with  an  incurable  disease.  In  early  life  he 
returned  to  his  native  town  to  die  there,  as  the  con- 
dition of  his  lungs  was  such  as  to  threaten  him  with 
speedy  death.  At  the  age  of  seventy  he  resigned 
the  presidency  of  the  college,  which  he  had  held  for 


l6  REMINISCENCES. 

about  thirty  years,  and  when  I  once  called  to  pay 
my  respects  to  him  in  New  Haven,  twenty  years 
later,  I  was  informed  by  the  servant  that  President 
Day  was  not  at  home,  but  had  gone  to  the  club. 
This  was  not  an  ordinary  fashionable  club,  but  an 
assemblage  of  emeritus  men  and  retired  veterans, 
who  met  together  to  talk  over  the  past  and  keep 
their  blood  warm. 

Professor  Silliman  was  distinguished  as  one  of  our 
foremost  chemists  and  geologists  at  a  time  when 
such  men  were  scarce.  He  was  an  accomplished  and 
able  lecturer,  and  always  carried  himself  with  great 
dignity,  which  I  remember  on  one  occasion  was 
severely  tested.  In  the  course  of  his  lecture  he 
happened  to  say  something  which  offended  a  few  of 
the  students,  who  gave  vent  to  their  feelings  by 
hissing  him.  This  was  altogether  a  new  experience 
to  him  and  to  us  all,  and  there  followed  a  dead 
silence  which  seemed  as  if  it  might  last  forever.  At 
length,  almost  in  a  v/hisper,  the  professor  said : 
"  Young  gentlemen,  is  it  possible?"  and  then  quietly 
proceeded  with  his  lecture.  There  was  no  more 
hissing  in  his  presence  after  this.  He  was  in  his 
day  a  pioneer  in  certain  departments,  at  a  time 
when  geology  was  not  in  very  good  repute  with  con- 
scientious people,  and  it  required  some  courage  for 
a  man  in  his  position  to  express  himself  freely.  I 
remember,  an  evening  when  I  returned  home  just 
after  hearing  his  lectures  and  found  there  a  vener- 
able but  somewhat  seedy  orthodox  divine,  who  was 
accustomed  to  frequent  my  father's  house  for  the 
sake  of  a  little  extra  bodily  nourishment,  which  he 
greatly  needed,  and  as  I  proceeded  to  detail  with 


COLLEGE   LIFE.  l7 

boyish  impetuosity  the  doctrines  which  Professor 
Silliman  had  been  teaching  us  about  the  process  of 
creation  and  the  proper  interpretation  of  the  first 
chapter  of  Genesis,  I  shall  never  forget  the  horror 
with  which  they  listened — the  idea  of  such  a  thing 
as  2.  process  being  abhorrent  to  their  minds. 

Of  the  others  I  must  speak  more  briefly.  Pro- 
fessor Kingsley  held  the  department  of  ancient  lan- 
guages, Hebrew  included,  which  nobody  studied, 
and,  in  fact,  most  of  our  instruction  in  Greek  and 
Latin  came  from  the  tutors,  if  time  consumed  in 
recitations  and  nothing  else  can  be  called  instruction. 

Professor  Olmstead  led  us  through  the  flowery 
paths  of  mathematics  and  natural  philosophy,  of 
which  I  have  no  very  distinct  recollection,  except 
that  I  was  once  shut  up  with  him  all  the  forenoon 
for  the  purpose  of  calculating  an  eclipse  in  his  pres- 
ence, a  problem  which,  I  regret  to  say,  remains  un- 
solved, so  far  as  I  am  concerned.  He  was  a  noble 
man  and  an  edifying  lecturer,  but  not  very  skillful 
in  the  conduct  of  his  experiments,  of  which  he  was 
so  conscious  that  he  formed  the  habit  of  saying: 
"  I  will  now  proceed  "  to  do  so  and  so,  "  unless  the 
experiment  fails." 

Professor  Goodrich  taught  us  rhetoric  and  Eng- 
lish literature.  In  preparing  for  our  public  perform- 
ances on  the  platform  he  took  gt'eat  pains  to  teach 
us  how  to  make  the  elaborate  old-fashioned  bow, 
and  it  always  struck  me  as  somewhat  incongruous 
to  see  the  man  who  was  more  of  a  spiritual  father 
to  the  student  than  a-ny  other  member  of  the 
faculty  assuming  the  postures  and  movements  of 
a  professor  of  calisthenics. 


1 8  REMINISCENCES. 

Dr,  Fitch  was  our  chaplain,  and  preached  to  us 
every  Sunday,  out  of  his  abundant  treasures  of 
theology,  magnificent  discourses  which,  in  their 
majesty  of  diction,  always  reminded  me  of  Milton's 
"Paradise  Lost."  He  dealt  but  little  in  that  class 
of  subjects  which  were  most  likely  to  interest  the 
young,  and,  indeed,  this  was  not  the  custom  of  the 
times  in  any  quarter,  and  the  mahogany  hue  of  his 
manuscripts  showed  that  it  was  not  their  first 
appearance  in  public.  He  was  too  bashful  to  deal 
with  the  students  in  any  private  way,  and  I  was 
greatly  surprised,  in  meeting  him  on  a  journey,  to 
find  how  affable  he  could  be  away  from  home.  The 
only  imputation  ever  brought  against  him  was  a 
rumor  that  he  raised  tobacco  in  his  garden,  but  this 
was  probably  only  as  a  horticultural  experiment. 

Peace  to  their  ashes !  They  were  all  good  men 
and  true,  if  they  did  not  screw  us  as  hard  as  the 
college  boys  are  screwed  now.  The  students  of 
this  generation  may  be  obliged  to  study  harder 
than  we  did,  but  they  do  not  have  to  get  up  in  the 
cold  winter  long  before  daylight,  and  go  through 
the  procees  of  attending  prayers  in  a  cold  chapel, 
then  pass  an  hour  in  the  recitation  room,  and  then 
go  to  a  very  frugal  breakfast  in  common,  and  all  by 
candle-light  or  lamp-light.  We  had  no  gas  or  elec- 
tric lights  in  those  days. 

Some  privileges  they  have  of  which  we  were 
destitute.  We  had  no  periodical  opportunities  of 
having  our  heads  ground  into  the  earth  and  our 
faces  mangled  and  our  limbs  broken  and  our  lives 
thrown  away  in  pursuance  of  the  noble  game  of 
football.     Great  advance  has  been  made  in  athletic 


COLLEGE   LIFE.  1 9 

training,  for  which  the  youth  of  this  generation 
have  reason  to  be  thankful,  but  it  may  be  possible 
to  carry  this  improvement  to  excess,  and  the  culture 
of  the  body  may  sometimes  encroach  upon  the 
culture  of  the  mind.  A  professional  trainer,  when 
one  of  his  pupils  complained  that  his  strength 
seemed  to  be  falling  off,  said  to  him  :  '*  You  must 
have  broken  some  of  the  rules.  Have  you  been 
drinking  any  intoxicating  liquor?"  *' I  have  not." 
"  Have  you  used  tobacco  in  any  form?"  "  I  have 
not."  "  There  is  only  one  thing  left ;  you  must  have 
been  studying."  '*  Well,  I  acknowledge  that  I  have 
looked  into  my  books  occasionally."  "  This  ac- 
counts for  your  debility.  You  must  stop  that  if 
you  want  to  succeed  in  my  department."  This  of 
course  is  a  caricature,  for  many  of  the  athletes  are 
also  first-class  scholars,  and  yet  somehow  that  does 
not  seem  to  be  the  most  direct  road  to  eminence  in 
these  days. 

I  began  this  paper  without  the  slightest  thought 
of  saying  anything  that  I  have  said,  and  may  have 
•been  impelled  to  roll  along  as  I  have  done  from 
an  instinctive  desire  to  keep  away  from  debatable 
ground  as  long  as  I  can ;  for  in  the  course  of  these 
reminiscences  I  may  sometimes  feel  obliged  "  to 
walk  tenderly."  It  is,  however,  a  comfort  to  know 
that  with  the  lapse  of  time  party  spirit  loses  much 
of  its  sensitiveness,  and  also  to  feel  as  the  cautious 
divine  did  when,  in  preaching  about  Dives,  he  said 
that  "  he  spoke  the  more  freely  of  his  character 
as  he  presumed  there  were  no  surviving  relatives 
whose  feelings  would  be  likely  to  be  wounded." 


CHAPTER  III. 

SEMINARY    LIFE. 

No  one  can  have  failed  to  notice  that  scenes 
once  familiar  to  us,  which  have  become  remote  by 
the  lapse  of  time,  will  in  certain  aspects  appear  to 
be  almost  as  fresh  and  sharp-lined  as  they  were 
long  years  ago,  and  then  again  the  mist  settles 
down  upon  them  and  they  have  all  the  vagueness 
of  a  dream.  Sixty  years  ago  I  had  my  abode  in 
the  theological  seminary  at  Princeton,  and  some- 
times, as  I  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  old  belfry  in 
whirling  along  the  railway  from  New  York  to 
Philadelphia,  it  all  comes  back  so  distinctly — the 
plain,  unadorned  chapel,  the  recitation  rooms,  the 
dining  halls,  the  dignified  professors,  the  throng 
of  students,  the  long  service  on  Sunday  morning, 
the  Calvinistic  lectures,  the  marvelous  exegesis  of 
Scripture,  the  half-hatched  essays  of  the  young  men, 
and  the  searching  criticisms  of  the  teachers — I  seem 
to  see  and  hear  it  all  as  if  it  were  a  thing  of  yester- 
day. Then  comes  a  cloud,  and,  looking  through 
that  cloud  of  time,  everything  becomes  indistinct 
and  ghostly.  All  the  good  professors  long  ago 
took  up  their  abode  in  some  higher  realm,  most  of 
my  companions  have  closed  their  accounts  here, 
and  the  few  who  survive  are  no  longer  young,  but 
they  are  all  old — waiting  for  their  summons.  I  pre- 
sume that  the  buildings  and  surroundings  remain 


SEMINARY   LIFE.  21 

much  as  they  were,  and  it  is  said  that  the  same 
old  doctrines  continue  to  be  taught.  Princeton 
Seminary  is  just  as  sound  as  it  ever  was,  still 
clamped  to  the  rock  of  eternal,  immutable,  uncon- 
ditional decrees,  in  conformity  with  the  declaration 
of  the  Confession  of  Faith :  *'  By  the  decree  of 
God,  for  the  manifestation  of  His  glory,  some  men 
and  angels  are  predestinated  unto  everlasting  life, 
and  others  foreordained  to  everlasting  death. 
These  angels  and  men,  thus  predestinated  and 
foreordained,  are  particularly  and  unchangeably 
designed ;  and  their  number  is  so  certain  and 
definite  that  it  cannot  be  either  increased  or 
diminished."  All  this  is  done,  as  we  are  further 
informed,  "  out  of  His  mere  free  grace  and  love, 
without  any  foresight  of  faith  or  good  works,  or 
perseverance  in  either  of  them,  or  any  other  thing 
in  the  creature  as  conditions  or  causes  moving  Him 
thereunto  ;  and  all  to  the  praise  of  His  glorious 
grace." 

I  can  say  this  in  behalf  of  the  Princeton  teaching, 
that  it  was  always  consistent  with  itself,  and  set 
forth  its  doctrines  without  reserve  or  equivocation, 
shrinking  from  no  logical  conclusions  on  the  ground 
that  they  seemed  to  conflict  with  the  fundamental 
principles  of  ethics,  or  the  attributes  of  love  and 
mercy  and  impartial  justice  in  the  Creator,  or  with 
the  freedom  of  the  human  will.  We  were  taught 
that  the  doctrine  of  limited  atonement  is  the 
foundation  of  the  Christian  creed ;  that  all  the  free- 
dom we  possess  is  liberty  to  do  that  which  upon  the 
whole  we  prefer  to  do  ;  that  our  moral  obligations 
are  in  no  sense  determined  by  our  ability — in  other 


22  REMINISCENCES. 

words,  that  we  are  bound  to  do  that  which  we  are 
incompetent  to  do ;  that  there  is  nothing  in  the 
nature  of  man  to  which  the  motives  of  the  Gospel 
can  effectually  appeal  until  a  supernatural  change 
has  been  wrought  by  the  direct  action  of  God  ;  that 
we  are  not  as  individuals  living  in  a  state  of  proba- 
tion, as  we  have  all  had  an  actual  probation  in 
Adam  ;  that  as  we  are  lost  by  the  imputation  to 
us  of  Adam's  sin,  so  we  are  saved  by  the  setting 
to  our  account  of  Christ's  righteousness,  the  moral 
qualities  of  the  one  personality  being  attributed  to 
another;  that  the  atonement  consisted  in  the  ac- 
ceptance of  the  sufferings  of  Christ  in  place  of  our 
own,  and  the  transfer  of  the  penalty  incurred  by  us 
to  him  as  our  substitute  ;  and,  finally,  that  all  in 
whose  behalf  this  penalty  is  paid  must  be  saved, 
and  no  others. 

This  is,  in  the  plainest  language  at  my  command, 
the  substance  of  what  we  were  taught,  although  it 
may  be  observed  that  as  soon  as  this  doctrine  is  ren- 
dered into  plain,  intelligible  English  the  presenta- 
tion is  regarded  as  a  caricature — and  no  wonder  ! 

The  Princeton  theologians  were  wise  enough  to 
see  that  this  "  scheme  of  doctrine  "  admits  of  no 
modifications  or  qualifications  any  more  than  the 
problems  of  Euclid  admit  of  them,  and  that  the 
removal  of  any  one  stone  from  the  arch  would  send 
everything  tumbling  down. 

I  recall  among  the  text-books  recommended  for 
us  to  study  were  the  writings  of  Witsius,  Char- 
nock,  Turretin,  Owen,  Fuller,  Howe,  and  the  like — 
rather  dry  food,  however  nutritious  it  may  have  been. 

I  do  not  wish  to  speak  disrespectfully  of  a  the- 


SEMINARY   LIFE.  23 

ology  under  whose  banner  so  many  grand  and 
saintly  men  have  been  trained  for  their  work,  but 
how  much  grander  their  work  might  have  been  if 
they  had  carried  about  with  them  some  better  con- 
ception of  the  love  of  God, — the  God  and  Father  of 
all  men, — and  some  truer  apprehension  of  the  saving 
work  of  Christ,  who  can  tell  ?  It  was  because  their 
better  nature  asserted  itself,  in  spite  of  the  dogmas 
which  they  supposed  themselves  to  believe,  that 
they  were  able  to  attain  the  spiritual  height  which 
they  reached ;  for,  after  all,  they  could  not  really 
believe  that  God  is  actuated  in  all  His  designs  by  a 
mere  regard  for  His  own  glory,  and  is  calling  into 
being  every  hour,  or  allowing  to  come  into  being, 
countless  millions  for  no  other  end  but  to  furnish 
fuel  for  everlasting  burnings. 

I  cannot  say  that  we  were  ever  much  enlightened 
as  to  any  other  system  of  theology,  and  I  well 
remember  the  consternation  produced  on  the  occa- 
sion when  I  ventured  to  say  a  word  in  mild  defense 
of  a  science  which  at  that  time  was  not  in  very 
good  repute.  It  was  well  understood  that  we  were 
there  not  to  investigate,  but  to  be  taught.  The 
trouble  is,  with  such  a  system  and  such  a  style  of 
instruction,  that  in  after  years,  when  one  is  ripe 
enough  to  detect  the  weak  points  and  fallacies  of 
the  system,  there  is  great  danger  of  swinging  off 
into  utter  and  absolute  unbelief.  Tell  a  man,  as 
Dean  Burgon  does,  that  if  he  can  lay  his  finger  on  a 
line  in  the  Old  or  the  New  Testament  that  is  not 
inspired  of  God,  he  may  as  well  abandon  his  belief 
in  revelation  altogether,  and  you  are  likely  to  do 
him  more  harm  than  any  infidel  could  do. 


24  REMINISCENCES. 

And  now  I  come  to  a  more  agreeable  part  of  my 
reminiscences.  Dr.  Archibald  Alexander  was,  at 
the  time  of  which  I  write,  the  leading  man  of  Prince- 
ton. He  was  the  father  of  many  Alexanders,  all 
distinguished  in  their  way,  but  he  continued  to  be 
Alexander  the  Great,  the  noblest  Grecian  of  them 
all,  to  the  end.  He  was  something  more  than  a 
cast-iron  dogmatist;  he  had  a  living  soul  in  him,  a 
quick  and  keen  mental  apprehension,  a  rich  imagi- 
nation, and  a  caustic  gift  which  he  was  slow  to  exer- 
cise, but  which  did  its  work  thoroughly  when  it  was 
exercised.  It  was  a  great  luxury  to  those  of  us  who 
did  not  happen  to  be  the  victims  when  the  time 
came  for  him  to  sit  in  judgment  upon  the  essays, 
which,  in  turn,  we  were  all  obliged  to  read  in  his 
presence.  If  there  was  a  defective  spot  in  the  com- 
position, a  disordered  metaphor,  or  any  attempt  to 
spread  the  eagle  unduly,  the  surgical  knife  was 
applied  with  a  discrimination  and  a  skill  which  we 
could  not  help  admiring,  even  when  we  were  the 
unhappy  subjects  under  treatment. 

On  one  occasion  a  young  man  read  a  production 
so  full  of  absurdities  and  bombastic  imagery  that 
we  all  anticipated  the  richest  treat  when  the  time 
arrived  for  the  good  doctor  to  operate.  While  we 
were  reading  he  usually  sat  with  his  spectacles  on 
the  top  of  his  head,  his  eyes  closed  and  hands  folded, 
jand  his  chin  resting  on  his  breast ;  and  when  the 
reading  was  over,  after  a  short  interval  he  would 
slowly  raise  himself  and,  adjusting  his  glasses,  lei- 
surely open  the  campaign.  This  time  it  was  a  long 
while  before  he  roused  himself,  and  he  seemed 
to  have  become  deeply  absorbed  in  thought,  and  we 


SEMINARY   LIFE.  2$ 

supposed  that  he  must  be  getting  his  batteries  in 
order,  preparatory  to  the  critical  job  before  him. 
At  last  he  rallied,  and  after  fixing  his  eyes  for  a 
moment  upon  the  complacent  youth  who  had  just 
taken  his  seat,  he  turned  away  with  a  bewildered 
sort  of  sigh,  and  said  in  his  quick  falsetto  tone,  and 
with  a  peculiar  emphasis,  "  T/ie  next  " — as  if  this 
was  a  case  altogether  beyond  him.  We  were  of 
course  disappointed,  but  not  altogether  so ;  the 
scene  was  worth  something. 

I  have  preserved  to  this  day  copious  notes  of  his 
Sunday  discourses,  and  they  never  lose  their  charm. 
I  have  at  times  been  tempted  to  make  some  per- 
sonal use  of  them — it  seemed  to  be  a  pity  to  keep 
such  golden  treasures  out  of  circulation  ;  but,  in 
addition  to  the  impropriety  of  stealing  other  men's 
thoughts,  the  contrast  between  the  gold  and  the 
pinchbeck  would  have  been  certain  to  betray  miC. 

Dr.  Samuel  Miller  was  the  pattern  of  an  old- 
fashioned  gentleman  from  the  crov/n  of  his  head  to 
the  sole  of  his  foot  ;  with  his  venerable  locks  and 
courtly  visage,  his  gold  spectacles  and  gold-headed 
cane,  his  rich  and  spacious  cloak,  his  scarlet  mufiler, 
and  his  perfect  costume,  there  seemed  to  be  nothing 
wanting  externally.  It  was  an  object  lesson  in  good 
manners  to  see  him  enter  the  recitation  room  and 
lay  aside  his  outer  habiliments,  and  he  took  his  seat 
with  a  dignity  that  would  become  a  king.  He 
published  a  famous  book — famous  in  its  day — on 
'*  Clerical  Habits  and  Manners,"  in  which  he  told 
the  clergy  how  to  conduct  themselves  at  home  and 
abroad,  in  public  and  in  private,  with  a  minuteness 
of  detail  that  reminds  one  of  the  more  elaborate 


26  REMINISCENCES. 

directions  of  a  high  rituahstic  service.  I  have  not 
seen  the  work  for  fifty  years,  and  therefore  cannot 
enter  into  particulars.  In  some  respects  he  was  the 
antipodes  of  Dr.  Alexander,  who  never  cultivated 
the  graces  of  manner  to  any  great  extent,  and  he 
was  also  unlike  him  in  the  construction  of  his  mind. 
Dr.  Alexander's  work  grew  under  his  hand ;  Dr. 
Miller's  was  constructed  with,  the  greatest  care.  He 
once  described  to  me,  as  I  sat  with  him  alone  in  his 
study,  the  process  by  which  he  prepared  his  ser- 
mons, and  it  was  in  this  way,  so  far  as  I  can  recall 
his  words :  "  After  I  have  selected  my  text  I  write 
down  the  leading  heads  on  separate  sheets  of  paper, 
and  then  I  introduce  at  proper  distances  the  minor 
divisions  under  each  head.  Then  I  proceed  to  fill 
up  one  of  these  spaces,  and  when  I  have  finished 
writing  out  one  of  the  divisions,  I  usually  take  a 
short  nap  to  refresh  me,  and  so  on  to  the  end."  I 
have  in  my  possession  a  tolerably  full  synopsis  of 
the  doctor's  sermons,  and  I  think  I  can  see  where 
the  naps  came  in. 

Dr.  Miller  was  a  most  devoted  Christian  and  also 
a  very  High-Church  Presbyterian.  He  was  a  strong 
advocate  of  three  orders  in  the  ministry — bishops, 
elders,  and  deacons ;  the  difference  between  him 
and  Bishop  Hobart  being  that  he  put  the  three 
orders  one  notch  lower  down  than  our  bishop.  He 
accepted  without  reserve  the  article  in  the  Presby- 
terian Confession  of  Faith  which,  after  saying  that 
"  the  Lord  Jesus  hath  appointed  a  government  in  the 
hand  of  church  officers,"  enlarges  upon  it  as  follows: 
*'  To  these  officers  the  keys  of  the  kingdom  of 
heaven  are  committed,  by  virtue  whereof  they  have 


SEMINARY  LIFE.  2J 

power  respectively  to  retain  and  remit  sins,  to  shut 
that  kingdom  against  the  impenitent,  both  by  the 
Word  and  censures,  and  to  open  it  unto  penitent 
sinners  by  the  ministry  of  the  Gospel  and  by  abso- 
lution from  censures,  as  occasion  shall  require." 
There  is  not  much  tinge  of  Low-Churchism  here.  I 
recall  an  occasion  when  the  good  doctor  found  him- 
self in  rather  a  tight  place.  He  had  been  telling  us 
about  the  Synod  of  Dort,  and  before  closing  said 
that  he  wished  to  direct  our  special  attention  to  the 
fact  that  this  Synod,  in  which  all  the  prominent 
Reformed  Churches  were  represented,  after  a  most 
thorough  and  protracted  consideration  of  the  whole 
subject,  before  their  adjournment  had  come  to  an 
absolutely  unanimous  verdict  in  favor  of  the 
Supralapsarian  system  of  doctrine.  A  troublesome 
little  man  in  my  class  rose  in  his  place  and  asked  if 
he  might  be  permitted  to  put  a  question  to  the 
doctor.  With  the  greatest  courtesy,  he  replied, 
"  Certainly.  It  always  gives  me  great  pleasure  to 
have  the  young  gentlemen  show  their  interest  in  all 
matters  brought  to  their  attention."  "  Well,  then," 
said  the  pestiferous  youth,  "  was  it  so  very  remark- 
able that  the  Synod  should  be  unanimous  in  taking 
the  final  vote  when  all  the  members  who  differed 
from  the  majority  had  either  been  expelled  from  the 
Council  or  left  it  in  disgust?"  Of  course  we  all 
felt  very  bad  for  the  doctor,  but  we  could  not  see 
any  way  of  helping  him  out. 

With  the  veneration  I  have  always  cherished  for 
the  memory  of  Dr.  Miller,  I  have  hesitated  as  to  the 
insertion  of  this  incident,  but  history  would  be  of 
little  value  if  all  the  frailties  of  great  and  good  men 


28  REMINISCENCES. 

were  concealed,  and  I  have  recorded  it  as  an  illus- 
tration of  the  tendency  which  often  manifests  itself 
in  high  ecclesiastics,  when  the  interests  which  they 
regard  as  sacred  are  concerned,  to  be  somewhat  eco- 
nomical of  the  truth.  Nowhere  is  this  tendency 
more  conspicuous  than  in  religious  biographies,  and 
sometimes  it  appears  even  in  religious  autobiogra- 
phies. In  this  respect  the  contrast  is  striking  when 
we  turn  to  the  history  of  the  Old  and  New  Testa- 
ment saints,  as  recorded  in  the  Bible. 

Dr.  Miller  had  a  strong  prejudice  against  the 
Episcopal  Church,  and  when  an  edifice  of  this 
description  was  built  near  his  own  home,  he  was  a 
little  disturbed.  At  the  same  time  he  contributed 
toward  its  erection,  and  when  he  was  asked  what 
induced  him  to  do  it,  he  replied  that  he  protested  as 
a  clergyman  and  subscribed  the  money  as  a  citizen. 

At  the  time  of  which  I  write  Dr.  Charles  Hodge 
was  so  lame  and  feeble  that  we  were  obliged  to  go 
to  his  study  for  our  lectures  and  recitations.  He  did 
not  have  the  appearance  of  one  destined  to  a  long 
earthly  career,  and  yet  it  is  not  many  years  since  I 
was  accustomed  to  see  him  day  after  day  breasting 
the  waves  on  the  beach  at  Narragansett  Pier,  and 
seeming  to  enjoy  the  sport  as  much  as  any  of  the 
young  men  and  maidens  about  him.  I  may  also 
remark,  in  passing,  that  at  the  same  period  I  had 
Dr.  Hodge  for  an  auditor  during  the  summer  season, 
as  the  Presbyterians,  having  no  church  of  their  own, 
were  then  worshiping  with  us,  and  of  course  I  had 
to  speak  cautiously  as  long  as  he  had  me  in  his  eye. 
I  had  not  the  vanity  to  suppose  that  I  could  teach 
him  anything. 


SEMINARY   LIFE.  29 

There  was  very  little  of  the  flavor  of  Calvinism  in 
the  man  himself,  for  a  more  loving  and  tender- 
hearted being  never  existed,  but  whenever  a  princi- 
ple of  importance  was  involved,  he  could  be  as  true 
and  hard  as  steel.  Of  course  he  must  have  believed, 
or  believed  that  he  believed,  all  the  rigid  dogmas 
that  he  taught,  but  how  he  could  have  done  so  is 
one  of  the  mysteries.  In  the  exegesis  of  Scripture 
he  never  flinched  when  he  came  in  contact  with  a 
text  that  seemed  to  conflict  with  the  doctrine  of 
limited  atonement,  or  any  other  dogma  of  the  sort ; 
and  I  was  very  much  impressed  with  his  disposal  of 
the  words,  "And  He  is  the  propitiation  for  our  sins; 
and  not  for  ours  only,  but  also  for  the  sins  of  the 
whole  world,"  which  he  told  us  must  be  interpreted, 
"  Who  died  not  merely  for  the  elect  Jews,  but  also 
for  the  elect  among  the  Gentiles."  The  New  Haven 
divinity  school  was  never  in  much  favor  at  Prince- 
ton, and  when  a  student  from  that  institution  once 
came  to  Princeton  to  be  enrolled  there,  it  is  said 
that  the  doctor  questioned  him  somewhat  carefully 
as  to  what  he  understood  to  be  the  Princeton  view 
of  the  atonement,  and  the  answer  proving  to  be 
quite  satisfactory,  the  doctor  said  :  '*  And  now  please 
to  tell  me  wherein  does  the  New  Haven  doctrine 
differ  from  our  own  ? "  to  which  the  young  man 
innocently  enough  replied :  "  In  New  Haven  they 
teach  that  God  so  loved  the  world  that  He  gave  His 
only  begotten  son,  that  whosoever  believeth  in  Him 
should  not  perish,  but  have  everlasting  life." 

We  had  still  another  teacher.  Professor  Addison 
Alexander,  a  son  of  the  president,  who  did  all  that 
he  could  to  make  our  Hebrew  attractive — a  man  of 


30  REMINISCENCES. 

wonderful  parts  and  great  acquirements,  but  reserved 
to  a  fault  and  living  a  life  of  great  retirement.  His 
prayers  at  the  opening  of  our  Hebrew  recitations 
were  models  of  brevity,  one  of  which  impressed 
itself  indelibly  upon  my  mind :  *'  O  Lord,  pardon 
our  sins,  and  save  the  Church  from  the  disgrace  of 
a  ministry  who  are  not  able  to  read  the  Scriptures 
in  the  original."  I  presume  that  in  his  view  this 
seemed  to  cover  the  whole  ground.  He  died  before 
the  great  work  was  done  for  which  he  seemed  to  be 
destined,  and  the  world  was  much  the  loser. 

The  Episcopal  church  of  which  I  have  spoken  was 
built  during  my  time,  and  no  one  being  found  to 
play  the  organ  at  the  consecration,  I  volunteered 
my  services,  and  all  that  I  have  to  say  about  it  is,  I 
was  never  asked  to  repeat  the  operation.  The  late 
Rev.  Professor  Hare,  the  father  of  Bishop  Hare,  was 
the  first  rector,  and  as  there  was  no  afternoon  service 
in  the  seminary  chapel,  some  of  us  formed  the  habit 
of  attending  the  new  church,  where  the  simplicity  of 
the  service  and  the  liberal  fervor  of  the  preacher 
combined  to  impress  us  very  favorably.  At  this 
time  I  passed  a  Sunday  in  Philadelphia  and  went  to 
St.  Andrew's  Church,  of  which  Dr.  Bedell  was  the 
rector,  attracting  great  crowds  by  his  eloquence  and 
earnestness.  I  was  deeply  impressed  by  the  whole 
scene,  as  all  I  had  known  before  of  the  Episcopal 
Church  was  in  a  very  small  way,  and  I  remember 
thinking  on  my  way  home  that  if  I  thought  I  could 
ever  have  any  church  like  that  I  should  be  inclined 
to  enter  the  Episcopal  ministry.  In  less  than  ten 
years  I  became  the  rector  of  St.  Andrew's  Church. 

There  are  some  advantages  and  some  disadvan- 


SEMINARY   LIFE.  3 1 

tages  in  being  educated  under  the  auspices  of 
another  communion  than  that  in  which  one's  lot  is 
finally  cast.  Those  who  are  born  in  the  Church  are 
there  by  inheritance  ;  those  who  enter  it  from  with- 
out are  there  by  choice.  One  of  our  most  positive 
ritualistic  clergymen  said  to  me  a  while  ago  that  he 
was  very  thankful  for  having  been  bred  as  a  Unita- 
rian, because  it  had  opened  to  him  the  humanitarian 
side  of  man's  nature.  It  may  be  of  some  service  to 
have  been  brought  up  as  a  Presbyterian,  provided 
the  reaction  is  not  too  great  when  you  break  loose. 
There  are  all-important  elements  in  that  body  in 
which  in  days  past  we  have  been  deficient,  although 
there  is  a  great  change  for  the  better  now — a  per- 
sonal zeal  and  self-denying  spirit,  a  sense  of  the 
solemn  reality  of  spiritual  things,  a  consciousness  of 
the  divine  presence,  an  experimental  piety — using 
the  term  in  the  sense  of  a  religion  resting  upon  per- 
sonal experience,  of  which  the  Episcopal  Church  in 
times  gone  by  had  no  occasion  to  boast.  It  is  a 
combination  of  elements  that  makes  a  wholesome 
atmosphere,  and  too  strong  an  infusion  of  exciting 
oxygen  or  neutralizing  nitrogen  disturbs  the  equi- 
librium. It  is  the  union  of  order  and  beauty  with 
earnestness  and  zeal  that  makes  the  perfect  Church. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  EPISCOPAL  CHURCH  SIXTY  YEARS  AGO. 

The  Episcopal  Church  in  this  country  was  a  very 
small  affair  at  the  time  of  my  ordination,  in  1836, 
reporting  less  than  600  parishes  and  763  clergy. 
The  General  Convention  had  just  declined  ''  to  enter 
upon  a  measure  involving  consequences  so  momen- 
tous "  as  the  nomination  of  a  bishop  for  China,  and 
the  Domestic  missionary  field  remained  for  the  most 
part  a  moral  v/ilderness.  Bishop  Kemper  had  been 
appointed  to  break  ground  there,  and  I  remember 
dining  with  him  in  Boston  just  before  he  went  out 
^'  to  exercise  Episcopal  functions  in  the  States  of 
Missouri  and  Indiana,"  and  wondering  that  such  a 
high-bred  gentleman  should  be  willing  to  exile  him- 
self in  the  far-off  regions  of  the  West. 

During  the  decade  between  the  years  1830  and 
1840  the  Episcopal  Church  made  such  an  advance 
as  it  had  never  known  before.  The  number  of  clergy 
doubled  during  this  period,  and  for  the  first  time  in 
its  existence  its  influence  began  to  be  felt  somewhat 
generally  in  the  community.  Several  causes  com- 
bined to  excite  an  interest  in  the  Episcopal  Church, 
especially  in  New  England,  where  the  breaking  up 
of  the  established  ecclesiastical  regime  was  more 
conspicuous  than  anywhere  else.  The  rigid  yoke  of 
New  England  Puritanism  had  become  intolerable, 
but  in  seeking  relief  from  the  iron  bonds  of  Calvin- 

32 


THE   EPISCOPAL   CHURCH   SIXTY   YEARS  AGO.      33 

ism  a  large  portion  of  both  ministers  and  people  had 
cast  aside  some  of  tlie  fundamental  doctrines  of  the 
Christian  faith.  There  ensued  a  movement  toward 
the  Episcopal  Church  by  those  who  wished  to  throw 
off  the  shackles  of  a  harsh  and  complicated  creed, 
and  by  others  who,  having  sought  for  freedom  in 
their  own  inherited  domain,  found  themselves  float- 
ing off  into  the  wide  sea  of  indifference  and  unbelief, 
and  still  were  not  prepared  to  deny  entirely  the 
divinity  of  the  Being  from  whom  the  Christian 
Church  takes  its  name.  The  breadth  of  this  Church 
attracted  the  former,  and  its  stability  gave  confidence 
to  the  latter. 

The  simple  service  of  the  old  Puritan  worship  was 
becoming  barren  and  wearisome,  as  the  original 
fervor  which  inspired  it  died  out,  and  the  short 
prayer  and  the  long  prayer,  with  two  or  three  of 
Watts'  hymns,  and  perhaps  a  chapter  from  the  Bible 
once  on  the  Sunday,  did  not  quite  satisfy  the  aver- 
age worshiper.  There  was  a  growing  desire  on  the 
part  of  many  persons  to  participate  in  the  forms  of 
worship  that  had  existed  in  the  ages  all  along, 
strengthened  by  the  feeling  that  it  did  not  seem  ex- 
pedient to  depend  entirely  upon  the  intellectual  abil- 
ity or  the  spiritual  mood  of  the  minister  to  formulate 
the  devotions  of  the  congregation.  I  supplied  the 
pulpit  of  the  Old  South  Church  in  Boston  for  a  little 
time  in  1835,  and  my  entrance  into  the  Episcopal 
Church  was  precipitated  by  consciousness  of  my 
unfitness  to  express  in  extemporaneous  prayer  the 
sentiments  of  an  intelligent  congregation  whose 
Christian  experience  had  in  a  great  many  cases  been 
matured  before  I  was  born. 


34  REMINISCENCES. 

The  organization  and  government  of  this  Church 
attracted  considerable  attention,  not  so  much  because 
of  its  conformity  to  early  usage  and  the  analogies  of 
Scripture,  but  because  of  its  inherent  fitness  and 
conformity  to  the  general  order  of  things — the  con- 
stitution of  civil  government  and  of  all  other  socie- 
ties and  corporations.  The  institution  of  new  terms 
of  communion  in  many  religious  bodies — Anti- 
masonic,  Anti-slavery,  Total  Abstinence,  and  the 
like — induced  a  certain  amount  of  emigration  toward 
the  Episcopal  Church,  while  some  of  the  ministers 
of  various  denominations  looked  thitherward  as  a 
field  for  greater  independence  and  freedom. 

In  the  earlier  part  of  the  century  the  Episcopal 
Church  made  slow  progress,  and  its  influence  was 
not  felt  very  seriously  in  society.  The  impression 
prevailed  that  it  was  an  aristocratic  fold,  of  limited 
extent,  for  the  accommodation  of  respectable  persons 
who  wished  to  get  to  heaven  by  an  easy  road  and 
without  much  disturbance  from  any  source.  It  is 
related  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Gardiner,  rector  of  Trinity 
Church,  Boston,  that  when  he  was  asked  to  contrib- 
ute toward  the  erection  of  an  Episcopal  church  in 
a  village  some  ten  or  fifteen  miles  away  he  declined, 
on  the  ground  that  this  Church  was  designed  for 
ladies  and  gentlemen,  and  they  did  not  live  in  the 
country.  When  someone  remarked  to  a  Methodist 
bishop  that  the  Episcopal  Church  was  a  very  respect- 
able Church,  he  replied :  "  I  know  it  is.  The  Lord 
deliver  the  Methodists  from  ever  becoming  respect- 
able." They  have  become  respectable,  notwith- 
standing this  protest,  and  with  the  usual  results.  I 
have  heard  good  old-fashioned  ladies  in  my  native 


THE   EPISCOPAL   CHURCH   SIXTY  YEARS  AGO.      35 

town  complain  of  the  intrusion  of  a  few  ''  Dis- 
senters "  into  old  St.  Paul's,  partly  on  the  ground 
that  their  presence  intercepted  the  view. 

In  those  days  the  Episcopal  Church  stood  very 
much  aloft  from  all  forms  of  organization  outside  of 
her  own  borders,  and  kept  on  the  even  tenor  of 
her  way,  undisturbed  by  any  matters  pertaining  to 
secular  affairs.  If  "  a  good  Churchman "  of  that 
period  should  come  back  to-day  and  hear  some  of 
our  sociological  discourses,  and  look  in  upon  a  few 
of  our  parish  houses,  with  their  reading  rooms  and 
amusement  rooms  and  coffee  rooms  and  gymnasiums 
and  bowling  alleys,  he  might  think  that  he  had  got 
into  a  new  world,  which  would  not  be  far  from  the 
truth.  The  current  style  of  preaching  in  our  pulpits 
was  not,  as  a  general  rule,  very  severe  in  its  draft 
upon  the  intellect,  or  likely  to  enkindle  any  excessive 
amount  of  enthusiasm. 

At  the  time  of  my  admission  to  Orders  the  Rev. 
Dr.  Bedell  and  the  Rev.  Dr.  Hawks  were  perhaps 
the  most  widely  known  as  "  pulpit  orators."  It  is 
very  evident,  however,  from  a  perusal  of  Dr.  Bedell's 
published  sermons,  that  the  charm  of  his  manner 
and  the  sincerity  and  earnestness  of  his  utterance 
must  have  conduced  very  much  to  the  high  reputa- 
tion he  attained  as  a  preacher.  The  holiness  of  his 
life  gave  special  power  to  his  words,  and  that  he 
had  a  singular  faculty  in  searching  the  hearts  of  men 
is  illustrated  by  a  little  incident  in  his  career.  On 
the  Monday  after  he  had  preached  one  of  his  most 
faithful  sermons  a  gentleman  of  the  congregation 
waited  upon  him  to  express  his  surprise  that  his 
good  pastor  should  have  selected  him  as  the  subject 


36  REMINISCENCES. 

of  discourse  on  Sunday,  when  the  doctor  assured 
him  that  it  was  not  a  new  sermon,  and  the  thought 
of  anyone  in  particular  had  not  entered  his  mind. 
This  of  course  was  enough,  and  the  aggrieved 
parishioner  started  for  his  home.  On  the  way  he 
met  a  friend,  who  stopped  him  on  the  sidewalk  and 
observed  that  he  was  going  to  Dr.  Bedell's  house  to 
remonstrate  with  him  for  his  ill-bred  personalities 
the  day  before.  *'  Did  you,  then,  observe  it  ?  "  said 
the  former.  "  No  one  could  help  observing  it." 
"  Well,  then,  this  confirms  my  original  impression, 
but  I  have  just  called  upon  Dr.  Bedell,  and  he 
assured  me  that  he  did  not  have  me  in  his  mind  at 
all."  "  I  never  supposed  that  he  was  talking  about 
j/oUj  and  I  was  on  my  way  to  call  him  to  account 
for  having  selected  me  as  his  target."  It  is  not 
necessary  to  add  that  the  second  call  was  not  made. 
Dr.  Bedell  had  unconsciously  brought  down  two 
sinners  at  one  shot. 

So  far  as  I  know.  Dr.  Hawks  never  printed  any  of 
his  sermons,  and  we  have  no  means  of  estimating 
his  pulpit  gifts  except  by  tradition.  I  may  have 
further  occasion  to  speak  of  him  as  a  platform 
orator,  where  he  was  unrivaled,  but  as  a  preacher 
he  was  greatly  indebted  to  the  musical  instrument 
that  he  carried  in  his  throat.  To  hear  him  preach 
was  like  listening  to  the  harmonies  of  a  grand  organ, 
with  its  varied  stops  and  solemn  sub-bass  and  trem- 
ulous pathetic  reeds.  The  rector  of  one  of  the 
Washington  churches,  where  Daniel  Webster  was 
an  attendant,  told  me  that  after  Dr.  Hawks  had 
preached  for  him  on  a  Sunday  morning,  Mr.  Web- 
ster said  that  it  was  the  greatest  sermon  he  had 


THE  EPISCOPAL  CHURCH   SIXTY  YEARS  AGO.      37 

ever  heard.  The  rector  made  no  reply,  but  took 
occasion  to  borrow  Dr.  Hawks'  sermon,  and  during 
the  week  took  it  round  to  Mr.  Webster's  house  and 
told  him  that,  as  he  was  so  much  impressed  by  the 
discourse  on  Sunday,  he  thought  he  might  possibly 
like  to  hear  it  again.  Mr.  Webster  replied  that  he 
should  be  delighted  to  do  so,  but  when  the  reading 
was  over,  he  remarked,  "  That  is  not  the  sermon  I 
heard  at  your  church  last  Sunday."  ''  Here  is  the 
manuscript,"  was  the  conclusive  rejoinder.  The 
musical  accompaniment  was  wanting,  and  that  was 
the  trouble. 

We  are  all  familiar  with  certain  ordinary  hymns 
which  are  simply  glorified  by  the  music.  I  do  not 
think  that  *'  The  voice  of  free  grace  cries  escape  to 
the  mountains,"  or  "  How  firm  a  foundation,  ye 
saints  of  the  Lord,"  would  ever  be  selected  as 
models  of  poetical  composition,  and  yet  I  was  told, 
when  we  were  preparing  the  old  Hymnal,  that  it 
would  be  fatal  to  the  Hymnal  in  Virginia  if  "  The 
voice  of  free  grace  "  was  not  there. 

I  would  not  be  understood  to  say  that  Dr.  Hawks 
was  not  a  great  preacher.  I  shall  never  forget  the 
delight  with  which  we  listened  to  him  in  our  college 
days,  sixty  or  seventy  years  ago,  when  he  was 
the  assistant  to  good  old  Dr.  Croswell  in  Trinity 
Church,  New  Haven.  I  would  simply  intimate  that 
almost  anything  would  be  made  impressive  if  it 
were  spoken  by  Dr.  Hawks. 

Sixty  years  ago  little  had  been  written  by  Church- 
men in  this  country  likely  to  attract  very  general 
attention  or  deeply  impress  thinking  minds.  Dr. 
Chapman's  "  Sermons  to  Presbyterians,"  Dr.  Mines' 


38  REMINISCENCES. 

"  Presbyterian  Looking  for  the  Church,"  Dr.  John 
A.  Clark's  "  Walk  about  Zion,"  and  a  few  other 
books  of  a  more  general  character  were  read  some- 
what extensively  within  the  borders  of  the  Church, 
if  not  without  the  pale ;  but  nothing  had'  been  pro- 
duced to  arrest  the  notice  of  scholars  and  teachers  of 
thought,  like  Professor  Allen's  '*  Continuity  of  Chris- 
tian Thought,"  Professor  Mulford's  "  Republic  of 
God,"  Dr.  Washburn's  profound  papers,  and  Phillips 
Brooks'  *'  Lectures  on  Preaching  "  and  miscellaneous 
sermons.  It  was  not  regarded  as  incumbent  upon  a 
Church  clergyman  to  concern  himself  with  matters 
that  pertained  to  the  region  of  economics  or  soci- 
ology or  civil  reform,  and  such  a  man  as  Professor 
McCooke  of  Trinity  College,  who  has  sounded  the 
depths  of  those  great  subjects,  would  have  been 
regarded  in  former  days  as  a  most  extraordinary 
phenomenon. 

I  shall  have  occasion,  before  I  close,  to  show  how 
the  Episcopal  Church,  though  it  continues  to  rest 
on  the  same  old  foundations,  and  has  retained  its 
ministry,  creeds,  and  services  substantially  undis- 
turbed, is  not  in  many  of  its  aspects  the  same 
Church  that  I  knew  when  I  first  sought  shelter 
within  its  borders.  The  same  imperishable  stones 
support  the  edifice,  the  same  strong  oaken  frame- 
work retains  its  place,  the  general  proportions  of  the 
building  are  the  same ;  but  the  building  has  taken 
upon  itself  a  new  tone  of  color,  annexes  of  various 
sorts  surround  it,  ornamental  appendages  have  been 
added,  the  windows  have  been  enlarged,  the  doors 
move  more  readily  upon  their  hinges,  the  Church 
will  hold  more  people  than  it  did,  it  is  more  likely 


THE   EPISCOPAL  CHURCH   SIXTY  YEARS  AGO.      39 

to  attract  people,  it  seems  to  belong  to  our  own  age 
and  our  own  land  more  than  it  once  did,  and,  if  I 
may  be  allowed  to  change  the  metaphor  abruptly, 
it  is  no  longer  regarded  as  an  exotic — it  has  become 
acclimated,  and  can  live  and  flourish  out  of  doors 
all  through  the  season. 

This  is,  upon  the  whole,  a  change  for  the  better. 
The  Church  is  moving,  and  that  is  a  sign  of  life.  It 
may  not  always  move  just  as  we  would  like  to  see 
it  move,  but  this  is  better  than  immobility,  which 
is  another  word  for  death.  Novel  doctrines  and 
novel  usages  may  somewhat  disturb  our  peace,  but 
if  they  are  not  in  accord  with  the  great  irresistible 
tide  of  human  progress,  with  the  noblest  and  pro- 
foundest  thought  of  the  age,  their  influence  will  be 
temporary.  There  may  be  some  elements  of  good 
even  in  these  extremes,  and  after  the  turbid  waters 
have  been  allowed  to  run  for  a  while,  the  particles 
of  gold  will  be  deposited  and  the  mud  swept  away. 


CHAPTER  V. 

CHANGE   IN  THE  OUTWARD  ASPECT  OF  THE 
CHURCH. 

The  outward  aspect  of  the  Episcopal  Church  in 
the  year  of  my  ordination,  1836,  was  different  from 
what  it  is  now.  There  were  very  few  church  edifices 
of  which  we  had  reason  to  be  proud,  and  it  was 
unfortunate  that  the  period  when  the  Church  began 
to  enlarge  its  borders  should  have  been  so  lamen- 
ably  deficient  in  any  true  conception  of  ecclesias- 
tical architecture.  We  had  inherited  a  few  impress- 
ive specimens  of  the  old  Christopher  Wren  school, 
like  St.  Paul's,  New  York,  and  Christ  Church,  Phila- 
delphia, and  there  might  be  seen  here  and  there  a 
Gothic  edifice  of  some  respectable  pretensions,  like 
Christ  Church,  Hartford  ;  but  the  prevailing  style  of 
building  was  utterly  destitute  of  beauty  or  any  dis- 
tinctive religious  character.  I  may  select  as  an 
illustration  St.  Andrew's  Church,  Philadelphia,  of 
which  I  should  be  sorry  to  say  a  disparaging  word, 
with  all  the  tender  and  hallowed  associations  con- 
nected with  the  structure,  and  yet  it  was  more  likely 
to  be  taken  by  strangers  for  a  bank  than  a  church 
when  the  doors  happened  to  be  open  in  the  week- 
time,  as,  indeed,  it  sometimes  was  by  persons  who 
wished  to  get  a  note  cashed.  The  church  was 
modeled  after  the  temple  of  Bacchus,  with  heads  of 
Medusa,   indefinitely  multiplied,  adorning  the  iron 

40 


OUTWARD   ASPECT   OF  THE   CHURCH.  41 

fence  in  front.  Two  large  bronzed  globes  flanked 
the  chancel  rail,  representing  the  tanks  in  which 
wine  was  wont  in  ancient  times  to  be  kept,  with  a 
lofty  pulpit  in  the  center,  fashioned  like  an  Egyptian 
cenotaph,  with  outstretched  gilded  wings  adorning 
the  front — the  pulpit  being  entered  by  a  flight  of 
stairs  from  the  vestry  room  in  the  rear.  A  reading 
desk,  large  enough  to  accommodate  a  respectable 
number  of  clergymen,  stood  before  it,  with  a  recess 
in  front  holding  a  marble  slab,  which  served  for  the 
administration  of  the  Holy  Communion.  The  organ 
was  built  in  the  shape  of  a  harp,  with  gilded  strings 
in  front  instead  of  pipes.  All  these  interior  decora- 
tions and  furniture  are  to  be  seen  no  more,  while  the 
exterior  of  the  church  of  necessity  remains  as  it  was, 
and  it  is  certainly  a  more  seemly  structure  than 
some  of  the  neighboring  churches,  built  at  about 
the  same  period.  Such  a  thing  as  a  cross  on  the 
inside  or  outside  of  a  church  was  not  to  be  seen 
fifty  years  ago,  and  all  the  interior  coloring  and 
decorations  with  which  we  are  now  so  familiar  have 
come  into  use  within  a  recent  date. 

If  such  "  good  Churchmen  "  as  I  knew  in  my 
early  days  should  return  to  the  earth,  they  would 
miss  some  things  to  which  they  had  been  accus- 
tomed, and  see  a  great  many  things  that  would 
strike  them  with  astonishment.  No  more  *'  three- 
deckers  "  in  the  chancel,  no  more  black  gowns  and 
muslin  bands  and  black  silk  gloves  in  the  pulpit,  no 
more  Collects  before  the  sermon,  veiy  few  old- 
fashioned  choirs  up  in  the  gallery,  no  obligatory 
singing  of  a  Psalm  in  meter  whenever  a  hymn  is  to 
be  sung,   no   more  exhortations   after   sermon,  no 


42  REMINISCENCES. 

more  depositing  of  the  alms  on  the  floor  at  the  head 
of  the  aisle ;  everything  is  now  converted  into  a 
function,  the  oblations  are  literally  oblated,  lifted  tip ^ 
and  even  the  entrance  and  exit  of  the  clergyman 
forms  a  part  of  the  ceremonial.  In  many  of  our 
churches,  in  place  of  the  simple  old  Anglican  Holy 
Table,  with  the  Creed,  Lord's  Prayer,  and  Ten  Com- 
mandments inscribed  on  the  wall,  he  would  see  a 
high  stone  altar  with  elaborate  carvings  and  orna- 
mentations, with  its  retable  and  gilded  cross  and 
beautiful  flowers  and  candles  and  reredos  and  balda- 
chino  and  triptych  and  pyx  and  cruse  or  corporas 
case  and  cruets  and  chalice  veil  and  ciborium  and 
superfrontal,  and  other  novelties  too  numerous  to 
mention.  If  opportunity  offered,  he  might  be  told 
that  the  proper  eucharistic  vestments  are  the 
amice,  alb,  girdle,  stole,  maniple,  tunic,  dalmatic,  and 
chasuble,  and  that  all  these  things  have  a  symbolical 
significance — the  amice  representing  the  linen  rag 
wherewith  the  Jews  blindfolded  our  Saviour,  the  alb 
and  surplice  emblematic  of  purity,  the  girdle  em- 
blematic of  the  work  of  the  Lord, — to  perform  which 
the  ministers  gird  up  their  loins, — the  stole  repre- 
sents the  yoke  of  Christ,  and  is  therefore  to  be 
reverently  kissed  before  it  is  put  over  the  shoulders, 
and  so  on.  If  the  same  "  good  Churchman  "  should 
remain  through  the  entire  service,  he  might  see  and 
hear  some  other  things  that  would  astonish  him,  in 
the  way  of  clerical  dress  and  genuflections  and  bow- 
ing to  the  altar  and  changes  of  position  and  manipu- 
lations with  the  hands  and  fingers  and  crossings  of 
the  breast  and  various  ablutions  and  intonations  of 
the  prayers. 


OUTWARD  ASPECT   OF  THE   CHURCH.  43 

No  one  can  doubt  that  all  this  would  startle  an 
old-fashioned  Churchman ;  we  have  become  accus- 
tomed to  these  changes  gradually,  and  therefore 
they  do  not  strike  us  so  strangely.  It  is  to  be  hoped 
that  there  will  be  some  limit  to  these  innovations. 

We  cannot  help  admitting  that  in  many  respects 
there  has  been  great  improvement  in  the  outward 
aspect  of  our  public  services.  The  music  is  of  a 
higher  order  and  better  rendered,  our  Hymnal  is 
richer  and  more  copious,  there  is  more  variety  and 
flexibility  in  our  worship  and  less  of  monotony  and 
tediousness,  both  ministers  and  people  are  more 
reverent  in  their  demeanor ;  but  it  is  deeply  to  be 
regretted  that  the  improvement  should  be  associated 
with  practices  that  are  foreign  to  the  genius  of  the 
Protestant  Episcopal  Church,  and  sometimes  even 
ludicrous  and  repulsive.  It  is  difficult  to  conceive 
of  St.  Paul,  or  any  of  the  original  Apostles,  indulg- 
ing in  certain  osculatory  and  other  puerile  demon- 
trations,  which  seem  to  have  a  charm  for  some  of 
our  wise  and  venerable  brethren.  It  is  to  be  hoped 
that,  after  a  while,  the  reign  of  common  sense  will 
return,  and  the  Church  be  no  longer  distracted  by 
these  follies. 

With  changes  of  custom  there  must  of  necessity 
come  changes  in  diction.  New  words  must  be 
invented  and  new  terms  come  into  use.  A  great 
deal  that  we  read  in  the  newspapers  to-day  would  be 
unintelligible  to  our  ancestors.  In  some  cases  there 
is  a  special  significance  in  the  general  introduction 
of  new  terms,  as,  for  instance,  in  the  popular  substi- 
tution of  the  phrase  '*  celebration  of  the  Holy  Com- 
munion,"  instead   of  **  the   administration,"  as  we 


44  REMINISCENCES. 

usually  have  it  in  the  Book  of  Common  Prayer. 
There  can  be  no  objection  to  this  term,  unless  it 
is  intended  to  signify  that  the  administration  and 
reception  of  the  sacred  elements  is  not  an  essential 
feature  of  the  Sacrament,  and  that  the  priest  may 
celebrate  and  receive  alone,  as  the  proxy  or  repre- 
sentative of  the  communicants.  The  same  may  be 
said  of  the  use  of  the  word  altar,  in  place  of  the 
Table,  or  the  Holy  Table,  as  we  read  in  the  Office 
of  the  Prayer  Book.  As  a  figurative  expression  it  is 
unobjectionable,  but  if  it  is  meant  to  imply  that 
there  is  a  perpetual  repetition  of  Christ's  sacrifice  by 
the  ministration  of  an  earthly  priesthood,  we  have 
no  right  to  say,  as  we  do  in  the  Prayer  of  Consecra- 
tion, ''All  glory  be  to  Thee,  Almighty  God,  our 
heavenly  Father,  for  that  Thou,  of  Thy  tender 
mercy,  didst  give  Thine  only  Son  Jesus  Christ  to 
suffer  death  upon  the  cross  for  our  redemption ; 
who  made  there  (by  His  one  oblation  of  Himself 
once  offered)  a  full,  perfect,  and  sufficient  sacrifice, 
oblation,  and  satisfaction,  for  the  sins  of  the  whole 
world;  and  did  institute,  and  in  His  holy  Gospel 
command  us  to  continue  a  perpetual  memory  of  that. 
His  precious  death  and  sacrifice,  until  His  coming 
again." 

It  would  have  startled  a  "  Bishop  Hobart  Church- 
man "  to  have  been  told  that  the  time  would  come 
before  long  when  it  would  be  regarded  as  irreverent 
to  receive  the  Sacrament  of  the  Stipper  without 
having  fasted  for  some  hours  before,  and  it  would 
have  more  than  startled  a  Churchman  of  that  school 
to  be  told  that  the  day  was  not  very  remote  when  a 
portion  of  our  clergy  would  request  their  people  to 


OUTWARD   ASPECT   OF  THE   CHURCH.  45 

go  to  them  for  private  confession  and  absolution 
before  coming  to  Confirmation  or  the  Communion. 
An  eminent  and  excellent  Roman  Catholic  bishop 
once  said  to  me  that  he  regarded  the  Confessional,  as 
it  was  practiced  among  us,  as  a  very  dangerous  insti- 
tution, and  that  his  own  Church  would  never  allow 
it  under  the  conditions  existing  in  the  Episcopal 
Church.  If  private  oral  confession  to  the  priest  is 
to  become  established  in  our  borders,  it  is  very 
important  that  it  should  be  brought  under  proper 
regulations  and  restrictions,  both  as  to  the  proprie- 
ties of  time  and  place  and  the  fitness  of  the  person 
who  presumes  to  take  into  his  hands  the  direction 
of  other  people's  consciences. 

The  multiplication  of  bishops  and  dioceses  has 
been  going  on  at  a  rapid  rate  during  the  last  few 
years,  and  this  not  merely  by  the  opening  of  new 
fields,  but  also  by  the  division  and  subdivision  of 
dioceses,  and  the  appointment  of  assistant  or  co- 
adjutor bishops.  At  the  time  when  I  entered  the 
ministry  there  v/ere  only  four  bishops  in  all  New 
England  and  New  York,  where  there  are  now  eleven. 
Four  years  elapsed  from  the  date  of  my  consecra- 
tion before  another  bishop  was  elected,  and  of  late 
it  has  not  been  uncommon  to  have  five  or  six  new 
bishops  consecrated  in  a  single  year.  Formerly  it 
was  assumed  that  there  must  be  a  diocese  in  exist- 
ence, or  at  least  a  certain  amount  of  material  for  the 
formation  of  a  diocese,  before  a  bishop  could  be 
secured,  but  in  these  days  in  many  cases  we  send 
out  our  bishops  as  pioneers  to  construct  the  diocese. 

This  multiplication  of  small  dioceses  has  an  im- 
portant bearing  upon  the  general  legislation  of  the 


46  REMINISCENCES. 

Church,  and  in  fact  it  enables  a  minority  to  deter- 
mine what  that  legislation  shall  be.  Any  one  of 
eighteen  dioceses,  the  aggregate  statistics  of  which 
are  outnumbered  by  the  diocese  of  New  York  alone, 
has  the  power  to  nullify  the  vote  of  that  large  dio- 
cese in  the  General  Convention.  This  anomalous 
state  of  things  must  be  founded  upon  the  presump- 
tion that  the  diocese  is  the  norm  of  the  Church,  and 
this  being  so,  for  some  unknown  reason  all  the  dio- 
ceses, great  and  small,  must  stand  on  the  footing  of 
perfect  equality.  The  failure  to  rectify  this  one- 
sided legislation  has  been  so  signal  as  to  discourage 
any  further  efforts  in  that  direction.  A  franchise 
once  conferred  is  not  readily  withdrawn,  especially 
where  the  balance  of  power  rests  with  those  upon 
whom  the  privilege  has  been  bestowed.  Universal 
suffrage,  having  been  established  by  law,  is  irrevo- 
cable, no  matter  what  the  consequence  may  be. 
Before  the  establishment  of  the  Federal  Constitution, 
under  the  original  Federation,  all  the  States  were 
allowed  an  equal  representation,  and  it  required  a 
radical  change  in  the  entire  civil  organization  to 
rectify  the  mistake.  It  is  easy  to  imagine  what 
would  be  the  political  aspect  of  the  country  to-day  ^ 
if  Rhode  Island  and  New  York  sent  the  same 
number  of  representatives  to  Washington. 

It  is  to  be  lamented  that  the  pastoral  relation 
should  of  late  have  become  so  much  more  transitory 
and  uncertain  than  it  was  in  days  gone  by.  In  the 
town  where  I  was  brought  up  there  were  eight  or 
nine  ministers  of  various  denominations,  all  of  whom 
died  in  the  place  where  they  were  first  settled — only 
one  of  the  number  resigning  his  parish,  and  he  went 


OUTWARD   ASPECT   OF  THE   CHURCH.  47 

off  to  become  President  of  Dartmouth  College,  re- 
turning, however,  after  a  little  time — not  to  resume 
his  ministry  in  his  old  church,  but,  singularly  enough, 
to  take  charge  of  a  congregation  who  seceded  from 
the  church  where  his  pastorate  began,  on  the  ground 
of  their  dissatisfaction  with  his  settlement.  One  of 
these  ministers,  when  he  was  between  sixty  and 
seventy  years  of  age,  but  still  in  his  full  bloom  and 
vigor,  surprised  his  people  on  one  Sunday  morning 
by  the  announcement  that  his  term  of  service  ended 
on  that  day,  inasmuch  as  at  the  time  of  his  settle- 
ment, instead  of  entering  into  an  engagement  for 
life,  as  was  then  the  general  custom,  he  had  con- 
tracted to  serve  the  parish  for  forty  years,  and  this 
period  terminated  on  that  day  ;  adding  that  he  had 
taken  this  step  because  of  the  fear  that  he  might 
persist  in  preaching  when  he  was  no  longer  fit  to  do 
so.  He  continued,  however,  to  teach  a  Bible-class 
for  about  a  score  of  years  longer,  and  when  I  called 
upon  him,  some  time  after  he  had  passed  his  nine- 
tieth year,  his  mental  faculties  seemed  to  be  clearer 
than  those  of  some  of  his  younger  brethren. 

The  number  of  our  clergy  who  live  and  die  of  old 
age  in  the  same  parish  is  now  comparatively  small. 
The  frequent  migrations  from  place  to  place  seem 
in  a  great  degree  to  grow  out  of  the  necessity  of 
the  times.  The  enormous  multiplication  of  feeble 
parishes,  which  must  struggle  hard  to  give  their 
ministers  anything  like  a  decent  support,  obliges 
many  of  our  clergy  to  be  constantly  on  the  lookout 
for  some  stronger  and  more  lucrative  position.  It 
is  a  serious  question,  whether,  in  our  efforts  to 
increase  the  number  of   our  churches,  we  are  not 


48  REMINISCENCES. 

''watering  the  stock"  in  an  injudicious  degree — 
diffusing  our  strength,  instead  of  concentrating  it. 
The  self-denial  and  suffering  which  many  of  our 
clergy  are  called  to  endure  is  very  great,  and  this 
comes  in  a  great  measure  from  the  planting  of  half 
a  dozen  little  parishes,  of  various  sorts,  in  towns  and 
villages  that  are  just  about  strong  enough  to  sustain 
one  respectable  church.  There  is  such  a  thing  as 
"multiplying  the  nation  "  without  ''increasing  the 
joy."  There  is  such  a  thing  as  drenching  the 
Church  with  ministers,  who  v/ill  always  find  it  diffi- 
cult to  earn  their  bread.  A  poor  old  presbyter,  on 
his  way  from  a  little  church  which  he  had  just 
resigned  under  pressure,  sat  down  in  my  study  some 
years  ago  and  said  with  a  long-drawn  sigh,  "  It  is  a 
most  mysterious  providence  that  every  parish  I  have 
had  has  died  on  my  hands."  It  was  not  much  of  a 
mystery  to  anyone  but  himself. 

The  Brotherhoods,  Mission  Priests  and  Sister- 
hoods, which  have  found  a  place  in  our  borders,  are 
a  striking  innovation  and  were  not  dreamed  of  in 
former  times.  They  have  probably  come  to  stay, 
for  there  is  a  class  of  people  who  can  work  to  better 
advantage  in  a  community,  and  somewhat  apart 
from  the  ordinary  course  of  things,  than  they  could 
as  individuals.  A  tinge  of  romance  tends  to  re- 
lieve the  monotony  that  is  apt  to  attend  any  form 
of  communal  life,  and  the  feeling  of  separateness 
from  the  common  throng  has  its  charms.  The  men 
and  women  who  are  willing  to  surrender  the  com- 
forts and  delights  of  a  private  home,  in  order  to 
devote  themselves  to  works  of  charity,  deserve  to 
be  honored,  but  there  are  certain  features  of  this 


OUTWARD  ASPECT   OF  THE  CHURCH.  49 

system  that  ought  to  be  seriously  considered.  One 
of  these  is  the  lawfulness  and  expediency  of  bind- 
ing one's  self  in  early  life  to  perpetual  vows,  which, 
after  a  time,  may  become  a  burden  too  grievous  and 
heavy  to  be  borne,  and  perhaps  embarrass  the  man's 
actions  where  freedom  is  greatly  to  be  desired,  of 
which  we  have  recently  had  a  notable  instance  in 
the  Church.  It  is  a  very  grave  question  whether 
men  and  women  have  the  moral  right  to  put  their 
destiny  in  the  control  of  a  superior,  and  in  so  doing 
abjure  forever  the  exercise  of  their  own  freedom. 
Still  further,  the  lawfulness  of  establishing  clerical 
orders  in  the  Church,  claiming  the  right  to  act 
independently  of  the  constituted  authorities,  strikes 
at  the  foundation  of  our  whole  system  of  govern- 
ment. We  all  know  how  this  assumption  has 
operated  in  former  ages,  and  there  is  no  reason 
why  it  should  not  work  in  the  same  way  hereafter. 
Things  have  come  to  a  strange  pass  when  a 
bishop  directs  one  of  his  presbyters  to  comply  with 
the  requisitions  of  a  canon  or  a  rubric,  to  have 
him  say  that  he  cannot  tell  whether  he  will  do  so 
or  not  until  he  has  had  time  to  hear  from  his 
superior. 

Among  the  new  agencies  that  have  come  into 
being  for  the  quickening  of  spiritual  life,  we  cannot 
fail  to  notice  the  introduction  of  what  are  known 
as  Retreats  and  Quiet  Days  and  special  Parochial 
Missions,  indicating,  as  we  have  reason  to  hope, 
the  growth  of  a  higher  life  and  a  more  devout 
spirit  in  the  Church.  Men  of  great  experience, 
wisdom,  and  piety  are  needed  for  the  direction  of 
such  services,  and  for  the  public  missions  we  want 


50  REMINISCENCES. 

a  style  of  preachers  endowed  with  the  quickening, 
penetrating,  searching  power  which  characterizes 
the  Paulist  Fathers  in  the  Roman  Catholic  com- 
munion and  the  old-fashioned  Protestant  revivalists. 
There  are  men  of  this  description  now  in  the  field, 
who  are  doing  a  noble  work,  not  only  in  looking 
after  the  desolate  and  abandoned  in  their  wretched 
homes,  but  also  in  preaching  the  Gospel  with  fiery 
tongues  to  the  multitudes  who  are  gathered  into 
these  Parochial  Missions,  and  we  may  well  bid 
them  God-speed,  even  if  some  of  their  modes  and 
accessories  do  not  altogether  suit  our  taste. 

The  establishment  of  guilds  and  innumerable 
societies  and  orders  of  various  sorts  is  another  not- 
able feature  of  the  times.  In  a  multitude  of  ways 
the  Episcopal  Church  is  reaching  out  its  hands  to 
gather  in  the  neglected  classes,  the  men  by  the 
way-side,  the  strollers  in  our  streets,  the  non-church- 
goers. The  parish  house,  which  is  now  becoming 
in  so  many  quarters  an  appendage  to  the  parish 
church,  with  all  its  novel  equipments,  shows  how 
the  range  of  our  work  is  extending.  We  are  begin- 
ning to  recognize  the  fact  that  we  must  save  the 
bodies  of  men  if  we  would  hope  to  save  their  souls. 
We  are  teaching  them  lessons  of  cleanliness,  taking 
them  out  of  their  rags  and  clothing  them  decently, 
trying  to  provide  for  all  the  departments  of  their 
being — the  intellectual  as  well  as  the  moral,  the 
craving  after  amusement  as  well  as  the  thirst  for 
knowledge ;  teaching  them  how  to  care  for  them- 
selves, and  so  become  good  workmen,  good  citizens, 
as  well  as  good  Christians.  This  is  perhaps  the 
most  significant  feature  of  our  Church-work  to-day, 


OUTWARD  ASPECT   OF  THE  CHURCH.  5 1 

and  it  is  reconciling  the  community  at  large  to  the 
Episcopal  Church  as  no  argument  could  do.  It  is 
the  introduction  of  the  humanitarian  element  which 
is  giving  us  our  headway. 

As  a  matter  of  course  the  duties  of  the  clergy  are 
very  much  increased  by  all  this,  and  the  traditionary 
quiet  of  the  parson's  study  is  fast  becoming  a  myth. 
I  can  remember  when  the  parish  minister  was  sup- 
posed to  have  discharged  his  out-of-door  duties  if 
he  made  a  yearly  call  upon  his  parishioners,  with  a 
few  extra  visits  to  the  sick  and  afflicted,  read  the 
service  and  preached  twice  on  the  Sunday,  opened 
his  church  for  Morning  Prayer  on  the  Saints'  Days, 
if  he  were  a  High  Churchman ;  or  delivered  a 
weekly  lecture  and  held  a  prayer  meeting,  if  he  were 
a  Low  Churchman  ;  and  perhaps  served  as  a  visitor 
in  the  public  schools.  Men  of  an  active  tempera- 
ment might  find  something  else  to  do,  but  this  was 
the  ordinary  routine,  and  we  had  no  Guilds  and 
Women's  Auxiliaries  and  Girls'  Friendly  Societies 
and  White  Cross  Societies  and  St.  Andrew's 
Brotherhoods  and  Parish  Houses  and  Relief  Houses 
and  Temperance  Orders  and  Missionary  Conferences 
and  Ecclesiastical  Coffee-houses  and  Boys'  Clubs, 
and  perhaps  a  dozen  other  concerns  to  look  after. 
The  array  of  notices  read  in  many  of  our  churches 
on  Sundays  would  have  sounded  as  strange  in  my 
early  days  to  the  men  of  that  generation  as  it  would 
to  the  ears  of  an  advanced  Puritan,  if  he  should  hear 
repeated  on  a  Sunday  morning  in  the  old  South 
Church,  Boston,  the  same  notice  that  was  occasion- 
ally read  there  in  early  times,  when  the  clerk  rose  in 
his  place   on  the  Lord's  Day  to  announce  the  fact 


52  REMIxMISCENCES. 

that  a  certain  number  of  swine  were  missing,  with  a 
minute  description  of  their  build,  and  a  statement  of 
the  reward  offered  for  their  recovery. 

There  are  some  who  think  that  we  are  pushing 
this  extra  work  to  an  extreme,  and  that  it  would  be 
well  to  give  our  clergy  a  little  more  time  for  study 
and  preparation  for  the  pulpit,  and  the  good  mothers 
in  Israel  a  little  more  time  for  the  discharge  of  their 
domestic  duties.  This  may  be,  and  still  all  this 
extraordinary  liveliness  is  only  the  effervescence  of 
a  fresh  zeal  that  has  come  into  the  Church,  for 
which,  of  course,  we  ought  to  be  grateful.  After  a 
while  things  will  settle  down  to  a  more  moderate 
temperature. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

CHANGE  OF  TONE  IN  THE  CHURCH. 

I  NOW  propose  to  speak  of  some  of  the  more 
vital  changes  that  have  taken  place  in  our  com- 
munion during  the  last  half  century.  There  are  a 
few  great  foundation  truths  which  cannot  be  dis- 
placed without  destroying  the  fabric  of  the  Church. 
They  are  what  the  Church  stands  for, — that  which 
makes  it  a  Church, — and  if  they  are  removed,  the 
structure  may  continue  to  exist  as  a  school  of 
ethical  culture,  as  a  self-organized  club,  or  as  a 
humanitarian  society,  but  not  as  the  Church  of 
Christ. 

The  fundamental  doctrine  of  the  Church  is 
embodied  in  the  Apostles'  and  the  Nicene  creeds, 
and  in  our  tests  of  orthodoxy  we  have  no  right  to 
go  beyond  these  symbols  and  that  which  is  neces- 
sarily involved  in  them.  The  baptismal  ofifice 
assumes  that  they  contain  ''  all  the  articles  of  the 
Christian  Faith  "  which  are  essential.  These 
formularies  have  not  been  in  any  way  impaired,  or 
their  validity  seriously  questioned  within  our  bor- 
ders, since  the  establishment  of  the  Church  in 
America.  Individual  clergymen  and  laymen  may 
have  denied  them,  but  there  has  been  no  tendency 
in  the  direction  of  unbelief.  Wise  men  may  have 
gone  deeper  into  the  analysis  of  dogma,  tested  its 
authority   more   rigorously,    dug   deeper    down   in 

53 


54  REMINISCENCES. 

examining  the  foundations  of  truth,  and  attained  a 
truer  and  more  reasonable  conception  of  God. 
They  find  in  the  "realms  of  science  and  philosophy 
wonderful  confirmations  of  the  essential  truths  of 
revelation,  and  the  supernatural  is  no  longer  in  con- 
flict with  the  profoundest  thought  of  the  age.  It 
is  no  longer  necessary  to  harmonize  science  and 
religion — they  give  each  other  mutual  support. 
The  one  is  the  complement  of  the  other,  and 
neither  is  conceivable  alone.  The  spiritual  finds  its 
terms  of  expression  in  the  material,  and  the  material 
is  the  outgrowth  of  the  spiritual.  Professor  Fiske, 
the  distinguished  defender  of  evolution,  well  says, 
"  Atheism  is  the  denial  of  anything  psychical  out- 
side of  human  consciousness,"  and  atheism  has 
received  its. death  blow.  "If  it  takes  mind  to  con- 
strue the  world,  how  can  the  negative  of  mind 
suffice  to  constitute  it?"  Not  many  years  ago 
Frances  Power  Cobbe  said,  "  It  is  a  singular  fact 
that  whenever  we  find  out  how  a  thing  is  done  our 
first  conclusion  is  that  God  did  not  do  it."  I  hardly 
think  she  would  repeat  this  to-day. 

But  while  the  foundations  of  our  belief  have  not 
been  seriously  disturbed,  it  is  impossible  to  deny 
that  there  has  been  during  the  last  fifty  years  a 
marked  change  in  the  style  of  preaching.  Some 
familiar  topics  have  dropped  out  of  sight  and  others 
come  to  the  front.  Certain  things,  which  once 
looked  to  us  very  large,  have  been  dwarfed  by  the 
distance  of  time,  and  others,  as  we  have  come 
nearer  to  them,  appear  much  larger  than  they  once 
did.  It  is  a  change  in  the  proportions  of  doctrine, 
or  rather  in  its  perspective. 


CHANGE  OF  TONE  IN  THE  CHURCH.     55 

The  style  of  preaching  which  satisfied  our  grand- 
fathers, and  did  them  good,  does  not  altogether 
meet  our  wants.  It  was  earnest,  impressive,  search- 
ing the  conscience  to  its  depths,  and  yet  it  seems  to 
have  been  somewhat  thin  and  inadequate  in  the 
expression  of  truth,  dealing  too  much  in  a  conven- 
tional phraseology  ;  not  unfrequently  inconclusive 
in  argument  and  lacking  in  comprehensiveness  and 
breadth  ;  appealing  to  one  department  of  our 
nature  and  to  one  class  of  motives,  and  those  not 
always  of  the  highest  order. 

There  was  another  kind  of  preaching,  which  dealt 
prominently  with  the  moralities  and  proprieties  of 
life,  always  insisting  that  ^'  virtue  must  be  encour- 
aged and  vice  discountenanced,"  warning  the  hearers 
with  great  fervency  and  frequent  reiteration  against 
*'  Rome  on  the  one  hand  and  Geneva  on  the  other," 
and  very  earnest  in  denouncing  the  heated  atmos- 
phere of  enthusiasm. 

I  do  not  mean  to  question  the  fact  that  there  was, 
in  the  time  of  which  I  speak,  a  fair  amount  of  intelli- 
gent, solid,  profitable  preaching;  but  if  I  had  space 
enough  to  reproduce  a  few  specimens  from  certain 
ancient  sermons  that  were  thought  worth  publishing, 
I  think  the  reader  would  say  that  I  have  not  over- 
stated the  case.  It  has  been  said  that  when  a  doc- 
trine ceases  to  be  habitually  preached,  it  indicates 
that  the  doctrine  is  dead.  This  may  not  always  be 
true,  but  any  general  change  in  the  tone  of  preach- 
ing is  a  token  of  some  corresponding  change  in  the 
Church  at  large.  The  pulpit  represents  the  popular 
sentiment,  as  it  also  to  some  extent  controls  it. 

It  is  worthy  of  notice  that  the  theological  disputes 


56  REMINISCENCES. 

of  one  age  generally  cease  to  be  of  much  interest  to 
the  next,  or,  at  any  rate,  they  assume  a  new  form. 
I  can  recall  the  time  when  the  doctrine  of  baptismal 
regeneration  was  a  very  prominent  subject  of  con- 
troversy, and  incidentally  it  was  the  occasion  of  a 
somewhat  limited  secession  from  our  communion, 
but  since  the  House  of  Bishops  unanimously 
declared  that,  in  their  opinion,  it  did  not  involve 
any  moral  change,  we  have  heard  very  little  about 
it.  It  is  no  longer  worth  while  for  us  to  waste  our 
strength  in  the  defense  of  forms  of  prayer,  as  the 
tendency  in  almost  every  quarter  is  toward  a  liturgi- 
cal worship,  and  where  that  tendency  is  to  stop 
nobody  can  tell.  Some  years  ago  a  distinguished 
doctor  of  music  in  the  Congregational  Church  said 
to  me  that,  when  the  time  came  for  a  ritual  in  their 
ranks,  they  would  have  an  advantage  in  not  being 
restricted  as  to  the  use  of  Latin  in  their  services. 
A  prominent  Ritualist  of  our  communion  once  re- 
marked, in  my  presence,  that  we  need  not  be  afraid 
of  their  going  to  Rome,  for  they  would  not  be  will- 
ing, so  far  as  ceremonial  went,  to  stop  there ;  so  it 
may  be  that  our  outside  friends  will  in  process 
of  time,  go  far  ahead  of  us  in  their  forms  and 
ceremonies. 

Not  long  ago  we  had  two  well-defined  parties  in 
the  Church,  and  there  were  few  who  did  not  hold 
allegiance  to  one  or  the  other  of  those  parties. 
They  are  now  as  parties  well-nigh  extinct,  and  I 
have  lived  long  enough  to  see  the  whole  process  of 
extinction.  It  was  very  gradual,  almost  impercepti- 
ble, but  it  was  inevitable,  for  the  simple  reason  that 
we  had  lost  our  interest  in  the  points  at  issue.     The 


CHANGE  OF  TONE  IN  THE  CHURCH.     57 

great  line  of  distinction  was  supposed  to  be  the  doc- 
trine of  justification,  and  the  technical  statement 
of  ''justification  by  faith  alone  "  was  undoubtedly- 
made  most  prominent  by  what  was  known  as  the 
Evangelical  party,  but  no  High  Churchman  ever 
claimed  that  he  was  entitled  to  salvation  on  the 
ground  of  his  own  personal  goodness — he  must  have 
been  a  very  conceited  creature  if  he  did — and  no 
Low  Churchman  would  be  likely  to  say  that  he 
expected  to  be  saved  without  possessing  some  ele- 
ments of  personal  goodness.  The  Low  Churchman 
of  the  present  century  was  very  unlike  the  Erastian 
Gallios  of  a  former  age,  who  were  called  by  the  same 
name,  and  at  the  time  of  my  entering  the  ministry 
the  growth  of  the  Church  was  very  much  in  the 
Evangelical  direction,  and  it  looked  as  if  this  party 
might  soon  attain  a  decided  ascendency.  The  re- 
strictions which  it  had  drawn  around  itself,  both  in 
its  range  of  work  and  its  codes  of  doctrine,  its  want 
of  sympathy  with  the  tide  of  thought  that  was  be- 
ginning to  flow,  and  the  tendency  to  exclusiveness 
which  is  liable  to  possess  all  parties,  political  and 
secular  as  well  as  religious,  operated  to  arrest  its 
growth. 

All  great  truths,  in  order  to  be  effective,  must 
adapt  themselves  to  the  age  upon  which  they  are 
brought  to  bear,  and  in  some  way  recognize  its  pre- 
vailing modes  of  thought,  its  tendencies  and  necessi- 
ties. Christianity  is  always  the  same  and  is  always 
changing.  Some  people  seem  to  regard  the  Church 
mainly  as  a  place  of  deposit  for  the  preservation 
of  truth — a  cistern  constructed  to  hold  a  certain 
amount  of  water,  and  if  we  can  manage  to  keep  the 


58  REMINISCENCES. 

level  at  the  right  gauge  we  should  be  content. 
They  ought  to  remember  that  the  Church  which 
Christ  established  was  meant  to  be  a  living  stream, 
for  the  renewal  and  refreshment  of  the  world — never 
at  rest,  and  gathering  volume  and  strength  from  all 
the  affluents  of  science  and  art  and  culture. 

There  will  always  be  differences  of  opinion  in  the 
Church,  as  long  as  men  continue  to  think.  One 
of  our  leading  theological  schools  was  recently  de- 
nounced because,  instead  of  being  told  by  the  pro- 
fessors authoritatively  what  they  ought  to  believe, 
the  students,  after  having  been  shown  all  sides  of 
the  doctrine  and  having  the  argument  in  its  favor 
presented  in  the  strongest  possible  light,  were  left 
to  the  exercise  of  their  own  individual  judgment. 
It  hardly  needs  to  be  said  that  a  faith  which  is  re- 
ceived on  prescription  indicates  nothing,  except  it 
be  implicit  confidence  in  the  doctor  who  gives  the 
prescription. 

There  is  a  dividing  line  in  all  enlightened  Christian 
bodies,  a  right  and  a  left  in  every  Church  that  has 
any  life  in  it,  whether  it  be  Protestant  or  Roman, 
Non-conformist  or  Anglican.  At  the  basis  of  this 
division  stands  the  ground  of  authority — in  other 
words,  the  question  whether  the  final  arbiter  of 
doctrine  is  the  witness  of  our  spirit  to  the  spirit  of 
God,  in  accordance  with  Christ's  declaration  that  if 
we  will  do  His  will  we  shall  know  of  the  doctrine, 
whether  it  be  true  or  not,  or  the  assumption  that  it 
rests  primarily,  if  not  exclusively,  upon  the  accuracy 
of  a  book  or  the  infallibility  of  a  man.  The  author- 
ity of  the  Bishop  of  Rome  in  matters  of  faith  is 
not  as  yet  recognized  in  our  communion,  while  the 


CHANGE  OF  TONE  IN  THE  CHURCH.     59 

Bible  continues  to  be  received  as  the  fountain  of 
moral  and  spiritual  truth,  the  record  of  the  mind  and 
will  of  God,  as  it  always  will  be.  But  still  the  ques- 
tion remains,  whether  we  are  to  accept  the  doctrine 
on  the  ground  that  it  is  found  in  the  Bible,  or 
whether  the  Bible  is  to  be  accepted  because  the 
doctrine  is  found  there.  Of  course  our  private  judg- 
ment comes  in  somewhere,  and  we  must  accept  the 
truth,  either  because  zue  find  it  or  because  it  finds 
us :  appeals  to  all  that  is  purest  and  noblest  in  our 
nature,  provides  for  our  direst  necessities,  and  lifts 
us  heavenward.  This  is  the  great  issue  to-day  in 
every  quarter,  and  it  is  a  fundamental  issue — some- 
thing that  is  worth  fighting  for. 

At  first  it  may  startle  some  of  our  readers  when  we 
say  that  there  has  been  a  change  of  view  during  the 
last  generation  in  regard  to  the  purpose  for  which 
Christ  established  His  kingdom  on  earth.  We  still 
believe  that  it  is  our  great  commission  ^'  to  preach 
Jesus  Christ  and  Him  crucified,"  to  do  all  that  we 
can  to  bring  sinners  to  the  knowledge  of  themselves, 
to  convict  them  of  sin  and  make  them  loathe  and 
abhor  their  sin,  and  then  lead  them  to  the  Cross  for 
pardon  and  salvation  and  cleansing ;  but  we  begin  to 
see  that  really  ''  to  preach  Christ "  involves  some- 
thing more  than  the  plucking  of  a  sinner  here  and 
there  out  of  the  jaws  of  hell.  We  are  more  and 
more  impressed  with  the  thought  that  there  are 
multitudes  of  human  beings  all  around  us,  who  can 
never  be  reached  by  the  Gospel  so  long  as  their 
conditions  of  existence  remain  as  they  are.  Their 
bodies  must  be  looked  after,  as  well  as  their  souls. 
They  need  a  literal  baptism  of  water,  as  well  as  a 


6o  REMINISCENCESo 

baptism  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  They  must  be  clothed  and 
fed  and  brought  out  of  the  dreary  holes  in  which 
they  burrow,  into  the  sunlight,  where  they  can  breathe 
the  pure  air  that  God  made  for  them  to  breathe ; 
they  must  be  taught  to  respect  themselves,  in  order 
to  become  respectable,  and  made  to  feel  that  there 
is  something  worth  living  for,  and  that  God  had  a 
purpose  in  their  creation  and  cares  for  them  and 
loves  them  and  follows  them  with  His  eye,  in  spite  of 
all  that  may  appear  to  the  contrary. 

And  so,  as  I  have  said  before,  we  have  extended 
the  range  of  our  work  and  are  now  adjusting  the 
mechanism  of  the  Church  in  order  to  meet  the 
emergency.  We  are  beginning  to  recognize  the  fact 
that  the  Gospel  must  be  brought  to  bear  directly 
upon  society,  as  well  as  the  individual — its  habits  and 
institutions,  its  modes  of  doing  business,  its  politics, 
its  amusements,  and  everything  else  that  pertains  to 
the  moral  side  of  our  nature. 

I  have  this  moment  taken  up  the  Year-book  of 
St.  George's  Church,  New  York,  and  nothing  could 
more  strikingly  illustrate  the  change  of  which  I  am 
speaking.  The  contents  of  this  book  would  have 
been  a  puzzle  to  the  members  of  old  St.  George's  in 
Beekman  Street,  and  I  am  afraid  that  good  Dr. 
Milnor  would  have  shaken  his  head  somewhat 
ominously  if  it  had  fallen  under  his  inspection.  I 
am  sure  that  he  would  not,  if  he  had  lived  to  see 
how  the  change  came  about,  and  what  has  been  the 
result.  These  are  some  of  the  "  Ecclesiastical  Insti- 
tutions "  carried  on  under  the  auspices  of  our  Epis- 
copal Church  :  ''  Gymnasium,  Athletic  Club,  Tennis 
Club,   Baseball,  Cricket,   Bicycle  Section,   Brother- 


CHANGE  OF  TONE  IN  THE  CHURCH.     6l 

hood  of  St.  Andrew,  Breakfast  Battalion,  Literary 
and  Dramatic  Clubs,  Chinese  Sunday-school,  Dea- 
conesses' House,  Free  Circulating  Library,  Girls' 
Friendly  Society,  Industrial  Trade  School  for  Boys, 
Kitchen  Garden,  King's  Daughters,  Church  Parochial 
Club,  Girls'  Missionary  Guild,  Employment  Society, 
Mothers'  Meetings,  Relief  Department,  Sea-side 
Work,  Penny  Provident  Fund,  Tee-To-Tum  and 
Community  House,  Women's  Baths,"  and  so  on,  in- 
cluding many  other  matters  more  distinctively 
churchly  and  religious. 

We  believe  that  in  recognizing  these  things  as 
pertaining  to  the  kingdom  of  God,  we  are  not  only 
following  the  example  of  Christ  and  obeying  His 
precepts,  but  we  are  breaking  down  the  old  distinc- 
tion between  the  secular  and  the  religious — not  by 
making  our  religion  secular,  but  by  trying  to  bring 
all  things  into  conformity  with  the  mind  of  God. 
We  cannot  believe  that  He  is  interested  only  in  our 
Sunday  work,  our  church-going  and  prayers  and 
sacraments,  and  has  no  concern  with  anything  else 
that  pertains  to  the  welfare  of  the  creatures  whom 
He  has  made. 

With  all  this  we  are  getting  to  have  a  broader 
view  of  what  is  meant  by  the  term  salvation,  believ- 
ing that  it  includes  the  idea  of  salvation  in  this 
world  as  well  as  in  the  next.  It  is  impossible  to 
estimate  the  evil  that  has  followed  the  teaching 
which  led  men  to  suppose  that  they  might  go  on 
sinning  all  their  lives,  and  then  by  some  magical 
process,  on  the  verge  of  their  mortal  existence,  be- 
come suddenly  transformed  and  made  fit  for  the 
abode  of  the  blessed.     I  was  brought  up  with  the 


62  REMINISCENCES. 

idea  that  my  destiny  had  been  determined  by  the 
will  of  God  from  all  eternity,  and  accordingly,  in  my 
boyhood,  when  I  was  tempted  to  do  something  that 
was  wrong  but  very  attractive,  I  would  say  to  my- 
self, "  I  am  preordained  to  be  converted,  or  I  am 
not.  If  I  am  to  be  converted,  everything  that  I 
have  ever  done  will  be  forgiven,  and  if  not,  this 
particular  transgression  will  make  no  great  differ- 
ence." It  will  be  a  great  gain  when  young  people, 
and  men  and  women  also,  can  be  made  to  appre- 
hend the  fact  that  destiny  must  be  according  to 
character,  and  that,  if  they  continue  in  sin,  the  law 
of  retribution  is  as  inevitable  as  the  law  of  gravi- 
tation. 

I  was  once  called  to  visit  a  venerable  Congrega- 
tional minister,  who,  after  having  led  a  long  life  of 
usefulness  and  singular  sanctity,  had  in  his  old  age 
fallen  into  the  delusion  that  he  was  not  after  all  one 
of  the  elect,  and  therefore  must  be  destined  to  ever- 
lasting torment.  There  was  a  mournful  picturesque- 
ness  in  his  appearance,  lying  there  in  bed  with  his 
white  locks  resting  on  the  pillow  and  his  sad  saintly 
face,  on  which  were  written  the  marks  of  sorrow  and 
despair.  I  encouraged  him  to  tell  me  everything, 
all  which  I  heard  without  a  word  of  comment,  know- 
ing that  it  would  be  useless  to  reason  with  him,  and 
unwise  to  express  much  sympathy  with  his  sorrow. 
At  last,  after  he  had  said,  with  the  tears  rolling 
down  his  cheeks,  "  And  now  the  end  is  near,  and 
there  is  nothing  before  me  but  the  prospect  of  being 
shut  up  in  hell  forever,"  I  replied  in  a  somewhat  in- 
different tone,  "  And  how  do  you  propose  to  occupy 
yourself  after  you  get  there  ?  "     He  answered  that 


CHANGE  OF  TONE  IN  THE  CHURCH.     63 

he  had  not  thought  about  that.  I  then  went  on  and 
quietly  asked  him,  *'  If  you  could  find  a  few  gentle- 
men down  there  in  sympathy  with  you,  and  could 
get  off  with  them  into  some  out-of-the-way  corner 
and  sing  a  few  of  the  good  old  hymns  and  talk 
about  the  love  and  mercy  of  Jesus,  and  have  a  kind 
of  old-fashioned  prayer  meeting,  would  not  that  be 
a  relief?"  His  face  brightened  as  he  replied  with 
great  earnestness,  *'  Nothing  could  give  me  more 
happiness  than  that  anywhere  !  "  "  Well,  then,"  I 
said,  ''  if  that  is  so,  I  don't  think  you  need  be  con- 
cerned. If  you  should  present  yourself  at  the  gate 
of  hell  and  they  knew  who  you  were,  they  wouldn't 
let  you  in;  and  if  you  should  get  in  by  accident  and 
the  devil  should  find  you  getting  up  prayer  meet- 
ings on  his  premises,  he  wouldn't  let  you  stay  there 
very  long."  The  good  man  burst  into  a  laugh  and 
said,  "Surely,  it  must  be  so."  ''Of  course  it  is,"  I 
replied.  ''You  couldn't  get  into  hell,  because  you 
are  not  fit  to  go  there,  and  you  wouldn't  know  what 
to  do  with  yourself  if  you  got  in."  The  cloud  lifted, 
and  the  good  soul  was  at  peace.  How  long  it  lasted 
I  do  not  know,  but  he  was  comforted  for  the  time. 
Of  course,  his  brain  was  affected,  and  "  there  is  no 
medicine  for  a  mind  diseased." 

It  is  thought  by  many  that  the  change  of  tone 
in  the  religious  life  of  the  age  indicates  a  general 
decay  of  spirituality  and  a  growing  indifference  to 
the  fundamental  truths  of  the  Gospel.  If  this  is  so, 
we  are  in  a  very  bad  way,  and  it  is  certainly  difficult 
to  account  for  the  wonderful  increase  in  our  mis- 
sionary work  and  greatly  enlarged  contributions  for 
the  extension  of  the  Church  of  Christ  into  so  many 


64  REMINISCENCES. 

dark  quarters  where  its  influence  has  never  been  felt 
before  ;  for  the  advance  in  our  religious  literature, 
and  the  increasing  hold  that  the  Church  has  upon 
the  community ;  and  no  one  with  his  eyes  open  can 
help  seeing  that  the  interest  in  religious  things  was 
never  more  extended  and  real  than  it  is  now. 

No  doubt  there  is  a  good  deal  of  loose  thinking, 
but  that  is  better  than  no  thinking  at  all.  The  man 
who  is  groping  around  in  a  half-blind  way  to  find 
the  road  is  more  likely  to  get  there  than  the  man 
who  sits  still  and  does  not  move  in  any  direction. 
There  is  nothing  more  to  be  dreaded  than  indiffer- 
ence. When  was  it  seen  before  in  the  history  of 
the  land  that  Wall  Street  in  New  York  and  State 
Street  in  Boston  were  deserted  for  an  hour  at  noon- 
day, to  allow  the  merchants  and  bankers  and  all 
sorts  of  men  to  go  and  listen  for  a  while  where 
they  could  hear  something  about  God  and  their 
souls  ? 

I  have  lived  through  a  great  many  crises,  political 
and  ecclesiastical.  I  have  seen  the  Church  "  shaken 
to  its  center "  more  than  once,  but  somehow  it 
rights  itself  and  so  goes  on  its  way.  There  is  a 
great  deal  of  sound  common  sense  still  left  in  the 
Church.  The  Church  is  not  going  over  to  Rome  to 
be  wedged  there,  neither  is  she  destined  to  float  off 
into  the  shoreless  sea  of  heresy  and  unbelief.  Our 
clergy  and  laity  are  for  the  most  part  moving  on  in 
the  quiet  discharge  of  their  duties,  undisturbed  by 
any  pessimistic  predictions  of  general  decay  and 
ruin.  They  do  not  beHeve  that  the  Church  is  going 
to  destruction  because  this  man  wears  a  colored 
stole  and  intones  his  prayers,  or  because  another 


CHANGE  OF  TONE  IN  THE  CHURCH.     65 

believes  that  there  is  some  discrimination  to  be  used 
in  the  interpretation  of  Scripture.  It  does  not  fol- 
low that  either  section  of  the  Church  is  absolutely 
sounds  or  either  absolutely  unsound.  Things  are  a 
little  mixed  in  this  world.  If  the  Church  is  the 
Church  of  God,  it  will  be  saved  from  ruin  ;  and  if  it 
is  not,  the  sooner  it  goes  to  pieces  the  better. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

LIFE    IN    BOSTON. 

I  HAVE  just  received  a  copy  of  the  Journal  of  the 
Massachusetts  Diocesan  Convention  for  1894,  a 
volume  of  382  pages,  and  I  find  reported  there  225 
clergy,  31,036  communicants,  and  contributions  for 
rehgious  purposes,  irrespective  of  parish  expendi- 
tures, amounting  to  $150,525.  In  the  first  Conven- 
tion that  I  attended  there  were  only  31  clergy- 
men in  attendance,  191 3  communicants  reported, 
and  contributions  amounting  to  $8724. 

It  is  fifty-nine  years  since  I  took  my  seat  in  that 
body,  but  the  whole  scene  stands  before  me  very 
distinctly.  I  recall  the  quasi  Gothic  edifice,  just 
consecrated,  and  in  which  I  began  the  exercises  of 
my  ministry ;  Bishop  Griswold,  who  retired  at  the 
close  of  the  opening  service,  as  he  was  not  expected 
to  attend  the  meetings  of  all  the  State  conventions, 
for  this  was  not  a  diocesan  council,  but  only  a 
gathering  of  one  of  the  bodies  grouped  in  the  Con- 
vention of  the  Eastern  Diocese,  of  which  I  shall 
have  a  word  more  to  say;  the  quiet,  sensible,  old- 
fashioned  High-Church  sermon  preached  by  the 
Rev.  Samuel  B.  Shaw,  who  came  back  in  his  old  age 
to  die  in  Rhode  Island,  his  native  State — a  most 
excellent  man,  who  did  not  appear  to  need  as  much 
religion  to   keep  him  straight  as  most  others,  and 

66 


LIFE   IN   BOSTON.  67 

who  died  at  the  age  of  eighty-six,  mourning  over 
the  fact  that  he  could  not  hve  to  the  year  1900, 
because,  as  he  told  me  with  much  feeling,  ''  If  I 
could  only  do  that,  I  should  be  able  to  say  that  I 
had  lived  in  three  centuries,"  he  having  been  born 
in  1799.  A  short  time  before  his  death  I  saw  one 
of  his  sermons  lying  on  the  table  in  the  vestry-room 
of  a  church  where  he  had  officiated  the  Sunday 
before,  and  my  eye  falling  upon  the  text,  ''  The 
days  of  our  age  are  threescore  years  and  ten," — he 
had  omitted  the  remainder  of  the  passage,  perhaps 
from  the  feeling  that  it  did  not  apply  to  him  per- 
sonally,— I  had  the  curiosity  to  look  at  the  fly-leaf 
in  order  to  see  how  old  the  sermon  was,  and  found 
that  it  was  first  preached  in  1823.  I  asked  him  soon 
afterward  if  he  had  the  same  emotions,  after  an 
interval  of  more  than  sixty  years,  that  he  had  when 
it  was  first  preached  ;  but  he  said  that  he  had  no 
distinct  recollection  of  his  state  of  mind  the  first 
time  he   delivered   the  discourse. 

The  first  Bishop  of  Massachusetts  died  in  1803, 
and  his  successor  lived  but  a  little  more  than  three 
months  after  his  consecration  and  never  performed 
any  Episcopal  duty.  In  1811  the  Rev.  Dr.  Griswold 
was  elected  Bishop  of  the  Eastern  Diocese,  which 
at  the  time  of  its  formation  comprised  all  the  New 
England  States  except  Connecticut.  It  was  a  some- 
what anomalous  condition  of  things — the  annual 
address  of  the  bishop  was  delivered  at  the  meeting 
of  the  Diocesan  Convention,  while  the  State  Con- 
ventions were  at  liberty  to  elect  their  own  presiding 
officers  and  conduct  their  affairs  without  the  pres- 
ence of  a  bishop.     For  twenty-four  years  no  provi- 


68  REMINISCENCES. 

sion  whatever  was  made  for  the  support  of  the 
bishop,  when  the  moderate  sum  of  five  hundred 
dollars  was  levied  upon  the  States  represented  in 
Convention,  for  the  purpose,  as  stated,  of  providing 
for  the  supply  of  the  bishop's  church  whenever  he 
might  be  absent  on  diocesan  duty.  This  money  the 
bishop  is  said  to  have  appropriated  to  the  support 
of  a  missionary  in  Maine. 

After  Bishop  Griswold  ceased  to  be  supported  by 
a  parish  as  its  rector,  he  never  received  more  than 
a  thousand  dollars  a  year  from  the  Eastern  Diocese, 
and  it  is  not  easy  to  see  how  he  could  manage  to 
live  as  comfortably  as  he  did  for  a  long  time  upon 
such  a  salary.     In  his  address  to  the  Convention  in 
1839  ^^^  states  that  when  the   Eastern  Diocese  was 
formed,  in  1811,  there  were  only  15  clergymen  in 
the  whole  jurisdiction — not  a  single  church-edifice 
in  Vermont,  but  4  churches  in    Rhode  Island,  in 
Massachusetts  but  13,  in  New  Hampshire  5,  and  2 
in   Maine.     During  the  first  eighteen  years   of  his 
Episcopate  he  admitted  148  to  the  order  of  deacons, 
and   III   to   the   order   of   priests,  traveled    70,000 
miles,  and  confirmed  9853  persons.     For  many  years 
he  continued  to  serve  the  church  in  Rhode  Island 
of  which  he  had  been  the  rector,  without  anyone  to 
assist  him  ;  at  the  same  time  presiding  over  a  theo- 
logical school  in  his  own  house,  to  which  young 
men  came  for  their  education,  and  where  the  good 
Dr.   Shaw,   of  whom   I    have  just  spoken,  roomed 
with    the    Rev.    Dr.  Tyng   (neither  of   them  were 
doctors  then),    and    they    are    said    to   have    lived 
together  in  the   greatest   harmony,  partly   perhaps 
because  they  were  so  entirely  unlike  in  their  temper 


LIFE   IN   BOSTON.  69 

and  disposition,  the  one  being  very  combustible  and 
the  other  incombustible. 

It  must  have  been  a  toilsome  life  for  the  good 
bishop,  in  addition  to  all  his  work  at  home,  to 
journey  periodically  over  nearly  all  New  England  at 
a  time  when  the  facilities  for  travel  were  so  poor 
and  the  roads  so  abominable,  but  he  went  through 
it  all  quietly  and  without  complaint,  always  on 
time — unless  the  coach  broke  down — shirking  no 
duty,  jogging  about  silently  with  his  pocket  Homer 
in  his  hand,  always  ready  to  read  but  never  over- 
ready  to  talk,  and  usually  making  it  his  first  inquiry, 
when  he  arrived  at  his  place  of  destination,  "  how 
soon  he  would  be  able  to  leave" — not  because  he 
wished  to  slight  his  work,  but  from  the  fear  that  his 
conversational  resources  might  not  hold  out.  It 
was  my  privilege  to  be  an  inmate  of  his  family  for 
some  time  after  my  ordination,  and  I  had  the  oppor- 
tunity of  knowing  him  as  you  know  another  by  liv- 
ing with  him.  After  breakfast,  as  we  sat  for  an 
hour  by  the  parlor  fire,  he  would  sometimes  unbur- 
den himself  with  considerable  freedom,  and  I  wish 
that  I  had  kept  a  record  of  his  curt,  pithy  sayings, 
many  of  which  were  worth  remembering.  Humble 
and  modest  as  he  was,  he  had  a  very  becoming 
sense  of  what  was  due  to  his  dignity  and  office.  At 
a  time  when  one  or  two  rather  high-flying  clergy- 
men annoyed  and  irritated  him,  he  said  to  me,  ''  I 
have  observed  that  the  men  who  magnify  my  office 
most  persistently  in  public  are  apt  to  give  me  the 
most  trouble  in  private." 

A  prominent  rector  in  Boston,  having  called  to 
consult  him  about  some  parish  matters,  asked  him 


70  REMINISCENCES. 

incidentally  if  he  did  not  think  it  might  be  well 
to  get  Bishop  Hobart's  opinion  on  the  subject;  a 
remark  which  the  good  man  treasured  up,  as  he  was 
wont  to  do  in  such  cases,  until  the  time  came  for 
a  settlement.  After  a  while  the  same  clergyman 
came  to  confer  with  him  on  some  other  matter, 
when  the  bishop  quietly  suggested  that  he  had  bet- 
ter consult  Bishop  Hobart. 

There  was  a  young  deacon  in  the  diocese,  an 
ignorant  and  conceited  person,  who  got  into  the 
ministry  by  one  of  those  side-holes  through  which 
too  many  are  allowed  to  crawl,  and  on  the  occasion 
of  the  bishop's  visiting  the  town  where  the  young 
man  lived,  he  called  upon  him  to  pay  his  respects. 
It  happened  that  there  were  several  gentlemen  of 
distinction  who  had  called  for  the  same  purpose, 
and  for  an  hour  or  two  the  young  deacon  monopo- 
lized the  conversation,  dilating  upon  his  own  affairs 
and  airing  all  his  grievances,  until  at  last  the 
bishop's  patience  gave  way,  and  with  a  quick,  sub- 
dued sharpness,  which  no  one  could  appreciate  who 
never  heard  him  speak,  he  turned  to  him  and  said  : 
''  Mr.  C,  you  talk  like  a  fool."  This  did  not  at  all 
restrain  him,  but  he  went  on  as  before,  and  then 
added  :  "  And  now,  after  all  this,  my  bishop  has 
called  me  a  fool."  "  I  didn't  call  you  a  fool,"  re- 
plied the  bishop.    *'  I  said  that  you  talked  like  one." 

At  a  little  clerical  dinner  at  the  bishop's  house, 
where  of  course  there  was  abundance  of  talk, 
although  as  usual  the  bishop  himself  was  very 
silent.  Dr.  Tyng  turned  to  him  and  said  :  "  Bishop, 
why  don't  you  talk  more  ?  "  The  defect  of  silence 
could  not  often  be  charged  against  the  doctor.     ''  I 


LIFE   IN   BOSTON.  71 

talked  a  great  deal  when  I  was  young,"  was  the 
reply,  ''  and  said  a  great  many  foolish  things,  but  I 
have  never  been  sorry  for  anything  that  I  had  not 
said. 

After  his  delivery  of  the  sermon  before  the 
General  Convention  he  was  told  that  it  suited  every- 
body. "  If  everj/hody  liked  it,  there  must  have  been 
something  wrong  about  it,"  was  his  reply.  I  remem- 
ber that  the  discourse  treated  of  the  somewhat 
familiar  doctrine  of  "justification  by  faith."  At 
that  period  this  was  the  watchword  of  a  party,  but 
as  there  was  really  no  special  difference  of  opinion 
about  it  in  the  Church,  the  bishop's  reasonable 
presentation  of  the  matter  was  of  course  acceptable 
to  all. 

The  black  silk  gowns  that  we  always  used  to  wear 
in  the  pulpit  were  fastened  or  looped  up  under- 
neath, above  the  elbow,  and  as  I  was  once  helping 
him  on  with  my  gov/n  I  said  to  him  pleasantly, 
"  I  hope  that  when  you  get  excited  in  your  sermon 
and  begin  to  thrash  about  in  the  pulpit" — the 
bishop  was  never  known  to  have  made  a  gesture  in 
his  life — "  the  sleeves  will  not  tumble  down,"  and  he 
answered,  with  a  faint  smile,  "  I  don't  preach  with 
my  arms." 

As  an  illustration  of  the  sensitiveness  of  the  period 
in  regard  to  any  changes  in  the  chancel  arrange- 
ments, I  must  be  allowed  to  give  the  following 
extract  from  the  bishop's  address  in  1841:  "It  is 
pleasing  to  see  the  improvement  which  is  generally 
being  made  in  the  construction  of  our  churches.  St. 
Stephen's,  in  Providence,  is  a  beautiful,  and,  for  the 
most  part,  a  convenient  church.     But  I  was  pained 


72  REMINISCENCES. 

in  noticing  the  uncouth  and  inconvenient  arrange- 
ment of  the  chancel."  I  may  here  remark  that  the 
innovation  consisted  in  the  substitution  of  a  lectern 
in  place  of  a  reading-desk,  and  the  use  of  the  Holy 
Table  for  the  reading  of  the  prayers — an  arrange- 
ment adopted,  I  presume,  for  want  of  room.  The 
good  bishop  then  proceeds :  "  I  trust  that  none  in 
this  convention  need  being  reminded  of  the  absurd- 
ity of  going  back  to  the  dark  ages  of  Christianity  for 
the  models  of  our  churches,  or  for  the  manner  of 
our  worshiping  in  them,  or  of  adopting  any  of  the 
fooleries  of  ignorance  and  superstition.  God  re- 
quires us  to  act  as  rational  beings,  and  not  as  idola- 
trous heathen.  All  the  services  should  be  performed 
in  a  place  and  manner  the  most  commodious  to  the 
minister  and  people.  Whether  he  preaches,  or  prays, 
or  administers  the  ordinances  of  Christ,  he  should 
be  in  the  view  of  each  and  all  of  the  congregation 
present ;  and  in  prayer  it  is  quite  as  fitting  that  he 
should  face  them  as  that  they  should  face  him.  To 
turn  from  them  to  the  communion  table  implies  the 
supposition  that  God  is  particularly  present  there,  and 
sanctions  the  abominable  doctrine  of  transubstan- 
tiation."  This  was  the  old  St.  Stephen's  Church;  if 
the  bishop  could  look  in  of  a  Sunday  morning  upon 
the  new  St.  Stephen's  of  1894,  he  might  open  his 
eyes  a  little  wider  than  he  did  in  1841. 

With  a  feeble  voice  and  a  very  quiet  manner,  it 
was  wonderful  that  he  could  make  his  sermons  so 
impressive,  but  the  substance  was  there,  the  thing 
that  men  needed — ''  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus." 
The  last  sermon  that  I  heard  him  preach  was  from 
the  text,  "  Gather  up  the  fragments  which  remain, 


LIFE   IN   BOSTON.  73 

that  nothing  be  lost,"  and  it  will  never  be  obliter- 
ated from  my  memory.  On  an  afternoon  not  long 
after  this  someone  rushed  into  my  house  and  said 
that  Bishop  Griswold  had  just  died  on  Bishop  East- 
burn's  door-step.  I  lived  close  by,  and  in  five  min- 
utes I  was  looking  upon  his  prostrate  form  lying  on 
the  floor,  wrapped  in  his  dark  blue  cloak,  noble  in 
death,  placid  and  peaceful  as  if  he  were  an  angel 
asleep  ;  and  when  the  shades  of  night  came  on  I 
took  his  body  to  his  home,  and  with  my  own  hands 
arranged  him  for  the  bed  from  which  he  was  to  rise 
no  more. 

If  there  ever  was  a  good  man,  a  true  man,  an 
honest  disciple  of  Christ,  Bishop  Griswold  was  that 
man.  He  had  accomplishments,  and  he  may  have 
had  weaknesses,  of  which  the  world  knew  little,  but 
his  goodness  was  always  conspicuous  to  all  who  had 
an  eye  to  discern  it.  He  was  not  likely  to  shine  on 
festive  occasions,  and  was  not  much  tempted  in  that 
direction.  When  he  was  requested  by  the  diocese 
to  take  up  his  abode  in  Boston,  he  told  me  that  he 
hesitated  a  little,  from  the  fear  that  his  health  might 
be  impaired  by  too  frequently  dining  out;  ^'but," 
he  added,  ''  I  have  never  suffered  from  that  cause, 
as  I  have  never  been  invited  out  to  dine  but  once, 
and  that  was  by  one  of  our  own  clergymen."  I  have 
dwelt  the  longer  upon  the  character  of  this  excel- 
lent man,  as  he  was  the  only  bishop  whom  I  knew 
in  the  earlier  part  of  my  ministry.  I  was  confirmed, 
admitted  to  the  diaconate,  ordained  priest,  and  mar- 
ried by  him,  and  it  was  by  his  nomination  that  I 
was  called  to  my  first  parish — Grace  Church,  in  the 
city  of  Boston. 


74  REMINISCENCES. 

There  were  but  three  other  Episcopal  churches 
in  Boston  proper  when  Grace  Church  was  built,  and 
their  influence  was  not  much  felt  by  the  community 
at  large.  Unitarianism  was  at  that  time  in  the 
height  of  its  prosperity.  The  historical  Old  South 
Church  was  the  only  one  of  the  parishes  founded  by 
the  early  settlers  which  had  remained  true  to  the  old 
faith,  and  such  men  as  Channing,  Gannett,  Frothing- 
ham,  Young,  Pierpont,  Putnam,  Walker,  the  Wares, 
and  the  Peabodys  represented  the  highest  culture 
and  the  strongest  social  influence.  The  Episcopal 
communion  was  regarded  as  a  respectable  scion  of 
the  old  Anglican  stock,  which,  under  the  adminis- 
tration of  the  Colonial  Governors,  forced  itself  upon 
the  town  and  took  arbitrary  possession  of  some 
of  their  meeting-houses  for  the  English  services. 
King's  Chapel  had  also  gone  over  to  what  was 
called  the  Arminian  faith,  although  it  still  retained 
all  the  outward  emblems  of  the  original  edifice — as 
indeed  it  does  to  this  day,  even  to  the  wooden  latch 
on  the  pulpit-door  and  the  Creed  over  the  altar, 
continuing  also  to  use  a  disembowelled  Book  of 
Common  Prayer,  which,  at  the  first  glance,  might  be 
supposed  to  be  the  same  liturgy  that  was  used  in 
the  beginning. 

There  were  but  three  of  our  clergy  having  paro- 
chial charge  in  Boston  at  the  time  of  my  settlement 
there.  The  Rev.  William  Croswell  was  the  rector 
of  Christ  Church  at  the  north  end,  which  is  now  the 
oldest  church  standing  in  the  city,  while  the  region 
surrounding  it  has  become  for  the  most  part  the 
abode  of  Jews,  Germans,  Irish,  Portuguese,  Spaniards, 
and  Italians,  and  the  old  glory  has  departed.     Dr. 


LIFE   IN   BOSTON.  75 

Croswell  was  a  very  accomplished  and  attractive 
man,  simple  and  quiet  in  his  habits,  a  sort  of  George 
Herbert  in  the  style  of  his  religion,  but  very  fixed 
and  firm  when  he  saw  fit  to  be  so ;  the  writer  of  a 
few  exquisite  poems,  and  one  of  the  prominent 
leaders  in  the  new  movement  from  Oxford,  whose 
first  waves  were  just  beginning  to  strike  our  Ameri- 
can shores.  He  was  not  intended  to  play  the  part 
of  a  combatant,  but  when  the  trumpet  sounded  he 
was  found  in  his  ecclesiastical  saddle,  with  his  armor 
on.  He  fell  suddenly  at  his  post  in  the  chancel, 
just  as  he  would  have  wished  to  do,  and  was  borne 
away  insensible,  to  be  seen  no  more. 

Dr.  Wainwright  was  the  rector  of  Trinity  Church, 
afterward  made  provisional  bishop  of  New  York, 
an  office  that  was  very  congenial  to  him,  and  the 
duties  of  which  he  discharged  with  great  fidelity 
and  zeal.  In  less  than  two  years  after  his  consecra- 
tion he  was  removed  by  death,  unable  to  endure 
any  longer  the  experiences  and  exposure  of  his  new 
mode  of  life. 

Dr.  John  S.  Stone  was  the  rector  of  St.  PauFs 
Church,  one  of  the  strongest  leaders  of  the  evan- 
gelical school,  a  profound  thinker,  clothing  his 
thoughts  in  singularly  forcible  words  and  adorning 
his  discourse  with  beautiful  illustrations  and  elo- 
quent appeals.  He  was  an  absent-minded  man,  as 
men  of  his  style  are  apt  to  be,  and,  like  Isaac  New- 
ton, was  Hkely  to  forget  whether  he  had  eaten  his 
dinner  or  not.  A  very  near  friend  of  his,  much 
given  to  facetious  things,  once  dropped  in  upon  him 
just  after  dinner-time,  expressing  his  regret  at  hav- 
ing been  so  late  in  arriving,  when  the  simple-hearted 


76  REMINISCENCES. 

doctor,  with  some  embarrassment,  intimated  in  the 
most  delicate  way  that  he  had  entirely  forgotten 
inviting  him  to  dinner  on  that  day ;  adding  that  he 
was  just  then  keeping  bachelor's  hall,  and  did  not 
really  know  whether  there  was  anything  in  the 
house  to  make  a  dinner  of  or  not.  "  Never  mind 
about  that,"  said  his  friend,  "  there  is  a  shop  close 
by,  and  we  can  extemporize  a  little  dinner  easily 
enough."  This  much  relieved  his  heart,  and  a  very 
respectable  repast  was  soon  provided.  After  it  was 
all  over,  the  doctor  was  quietly  informed  by  his 
guest  that  he  had  not  been  invited  at  all.  He  was 
too  kind-hearted  to  take  offense. 

It  seems  to  me  very  strange  that  this  little  band 
should  have  comprised  the  whole  Episcopal  clerical 
force  in  Boston,  which  to-day  abounds  with  priests 
and  deacons  of  all  shades  and  degrees. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

REMOVAL  TO   PHILADELPHIA. 

In  the  year  1843  I  found  myself  in  Philadelphia, 
often  spoken  of  in  those  days  as  the  "Paradise  of 
Ministers,"  and  not  entirely  without  reason.  The 
clergy  were  an  influential  element  of  society,  and  it 
was  the  custom  of  the  people  to  go  to  church  regu- 
larly, morning  and  afternoon  ;  they  looked  after  their 
rector  carefully,  and  kept  him  well  supplied  with  the 
comforts  and  sometimes  with  the  luxuries  of  life, 
occasionally  stocking  his  cellar  with  live  terrapin — 
which  it  would  be  ruinous  to  do  in  these  days — fill- 
ing the  house  on  Christmas  Eve  with  the  best  speci- 
mens of  their  domestic  cooking,  and  testing  his 
powers  of  digestion  by  perpetual  tea  parties,  which, 
during  the  first  part  of  my  sojourn  in  that  city,  filled 
up  nearly  every  vacant  evening  in  the  week.  The 
good  people  also  kept  a  strict  watch  over  their  pas- 
tor's behavior  and  habits,  of  which  I  had  a  striking 
illustration  soon  after  I  was  settled  in  St.  Andrew's 
Church.  I  went  one  afternoon  very  innocently  to 
a  concert  of  music,  when,  to  my  surprise,  the  Rev. 
Dr.  Bethune,  a  distinguished  minister  of  the  Dutch 
Reformed  Church,  crossed  the  hall,  and  taking  me 
by  the  hand,  thanked  me  very  heartily  for  my  ap- 
pearance there.  I  asked  him  what  he  meant,  and 
he  replied  that  he  was  glad  to  see  me  because  it 
kept  him  in  countenance;  "for,  do  you  not  know 

77 


78  REMINISCENCES. 

that  you  are  here  at  the  risk  of  your  reputation  as  a 
Christian  minister?"  In  connection  with  this  I  may 
remark  that  in  the  Life  of  Dr.  Bedell,  the  first  rector 
of  St.  Andrew's,  it  is  stated  that  he  was  very  fond 
of  music,  and  especially  of  sacred  oratorios,  which 
he  was  in  the  habit  of  attending  until  he  found  that 
it  gave  offense  to  his  parishioners,  "when,"  as  his 
biographer  says,  "he  wisely  abstained  from  going 
any  more." 

During  the  early  part  of  the  century  the  Episcopal 
Church  in  Philadelphia  had  large  accessions  from 
the  Quaker  fold,  as  was  evident  from  the  Friendly 
aspect  of  the  congregations,  the  plain  bonnets  and 
drab  colors  being  very  conspicuous  in  some  of  our 
churches.  The  intelligence  and  social  standing  of 
the  Friends  gave  new  substance  and  strength  to  our 
communion,  and  it  did  not  require  a  long  time  to 
convert  the  peaceful  and  orderly  Quaker  into  a 
thorough  and   consistent   Churchman. 

The  party  lines  in  our  borders  were  at  that  time  very 
clearly  defined,  as  was  always  apparent  in  a  contested 
election  or  the  discussion  of  a  controverted  topic; 
and  the  delicacy  of  balance  in  the  two  parties  was 
more  than  once  illustrated  by  the  election  of  a  new 
bishop  turning  upon  a  single  vote.  The  personal 
and  social  relations  of  the  clergy  and  laity  were  not 
seriously  disturbed  by  this  difference  of  sentiment, 
neither  were  the  outward  and  visible  tokens  of  dis- 
tinction very  numerous  or  striking.  No  one,  how- 
ever, could  expect  to  be  called  to  an  Evangelical 
church  if  he  bowed  in  the  Creed,  and  no  Low  Church 
rector  was  regarded  as  faithful  to  his  trust  unless 
he  cultivated   the  informal  prayer  meeting. 


REMOVAL  TO    PHILADELPHIA.  79 

The  chapel  of  St.  Andrew  was  a  large  building, 
and  it  was  well  filled  on  Saturday  evenings,  when 
the  prayer  meeting  held  its  high  function,  always 
beginning,  from  the  days  of  Dr.  Bedell  onward,  with 
the  hymn 

Far  from  my  thoughts,  vain  world,  begone, 

followed  by  the  minister's  reading  a  portion  of 
Scripture  and  offering  an  extempore  prayer,  the 
remainder  of  the  time  being  occupied  by  the  sing- 
ing of  hymns  and  prayers  offered  by  a  few  elderly 
men  of  high  repute  for  piety,  who  rarely,  if  ever, 
violated  the  laws  of  propriety  and  good  taste, 
although  there  might  be  some  degree  of  sameness 
in  their  petitions.  Occasionally  a  younger  person, 
more  inflamed  by  zeal,  would  take  occasion  to  lay 
the  supposed  short-comings  of  the  rector  in  word 
and  doctrine  before  the  Lord,  and  implore  that  he 
might  be  directed  from  above  to  improve  his  ways, 
but  this  was  a  very  rare  occurrence.  I  was  once 
tossed  about  in  prayer  on  a  sea  of  extraordinary 
metaphors  by  a  recent  convert  from  the  Quakers, 
whose  good  mother  told  me  that  she  wished  her  son 
would  reserve  some  of  his  religion  for  home  con- 
sumption, or  words  to  this  effect.  A  crisis  did  occur 
at  a  certain  time  when  I  was  put  in  some  peril,  and 
that  was  occasioned  by  the  introduction  of  the 
responsive  reading  of  a  portion  of  the  Psalter,  which 
resulted  in  my  receiving  a  paper,  signed  by  a  large 
number  of  excellent  ladies,  protesting  against  the 
innovation.  It  was  a  great  relief  when  our  meetings 
were  brightened  by  the  presence  of  distinguished 
clergymen  from  abroad,  among  whom  I  recall  most 
distinctly  and  pleasantly  the  late  Bishop  Johns  and 


So  REMINISCENCES. 

the  Rev.  Dr.  Sparrow.  At  that  period  the  Sunday- 
could  hardly  be  regarded  as  a  day  of  rest,  with  the 
usual  order  of  duties  allotted  to  the  day — Sunday- 
school  at  nine  o'clock,  Morning  Service  and  sermon 
at  ten  and  a  half,  second  session  of  the  Sunday- 
school  at  two,  afternoon  service  at  three  or  four,  and 
very  possibly  another  public  service  at  night.  This 
is  what  Robertson  called  "The  Religious  Non-observ- 
ance of  the  Sabbath."  The  sermons  written  and 
preached  in  Boston  were  not  in  all  respects  adapted 
to  the  spiritual  atmosphere  of  Philadelphia.  Some 
time  after  I  was  settled  in  St.  Andrew's,  an  intelli- 
gent woman  said  to  me,  "Why  do  you  consume  so 
much  of  your  time  in  trying  to  prove  things?  We 
have  no  doubts."  What  the  people  wanted  was  to 
have  the  truths  of  the  Gospel  set  before  them  in  a 
clear,  intelligible  light,  and  then  pressed  home  upon 
the  conscience  as  strongly  and  earnestly  as  possible. 
Sermons  on  controverted  points,  ecclesiastical  or 
polemical,  they  cared  little  about.  Some  of  the 
most  successful  and  useful  preachers  of  the  period 
were  far  from  being  scholarly  men,  or  endowed  with 
any  pre-eminent  intellectual  gifts,  but  they  replen- 
ished the  kingdom  of  God  and  brought  many  to 
Christ.  I 

I  have  some  hesitation  in  venturing  to  speak  of 
my  clerical  contemporaries  in  Philadelphia.  They 
have  all  departed  this  life  but  one,  the  Rev.  Dr. 
Spear,  who  still  lives,  although  his  work  is  done. 
They  were  good  men  and  able  men  in  their  several 
ways — some  of  them  very  good  and  able. 

The  Rev.  Dr.  Morton  was  the  last  to  leave  us, 
continuing  to  the  end   in  the  parish  which  he  had 


REMOVAL  TO   PHILADELPHIA.  8 1 

served  so  faithfully  for  a  long  period  of  years,  with- 
out ever  having  said  or  done  anything  to  give 
offense ;  a  most  courteous  gentleman  and  irreproach- 
able Christian,  with  a  mind  attuned  to  poetry  and 
music,  and  who  might  have  attained  eminence  as  a 
painter  if  he  had  given  himself  to  artistic  pursuits. 
His  smile  and  his  voice  were  enough  to  win  one's 
heart,  and  yet,  behind  all  this,  there  ran  a  vein  of 
humor  that  might  have  made  mischief,  if  it  had  not 
been  under  such  perfect  control.  I  recall  an  article 
from  his  pen  in  one  of  our  Church  papers,  written 
many  years  ago,  purporting  to  describe,  after  the 
fashion  of  the  day,  the  visitation  of  a  bishop,  his  re- 
ception at  the  station,  the  sumptuous  entertainment 
provided  for  him,  the  sermon  on  Sunday — the  open- 
ing portion  being  read  by  the  Rev.  Mr.  A. — the 
Lessons  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  B.,  distinguished  for  his 
admirable  elocution — the  Prayers  and  Litany  by  the 
Rev.  Mr.  C. — the  Ante-Communion  office  by  the 
rector,  who  also  announced  the  Hymns  with  his 
usual  distinctness;  and  the  sermon  preached  by  the 
bishop,  able  and  eloquent  as  he  always  is,  moving 
many  to  tears.  Then  followed  a  marvelous  descrip- 
tion of  the  church  edifice  in  which  the  service  was 
held,  with  its  brilliant  windows,  well-cushioned 
pews,  chancel  decorations,  which  in  those  days  were 
not  conspicuous,  and  so  on  at  some  length.  This, 
however,  was  a  gift  rarely  exercised  by  Dr.  Morton ; 
his  real  work  was  always  serious  and  stately. 

The  Rev.  Dr.  Richard  Newton  comes  next  to  mind, 
of  a  different  type  of  churchmanship — an  earnest, 
godly,  rousing  preacher,  with  a  tinge  of  Calvinism  still 
lingering  about  him — almost  to  the  end,  impatient 


82  REMINISCENCES. 

of  what  he  considered  vital  error,  but  personally 
kind  and  charitable  to  all.  He  was  one  of  the  few 
men  who  know  how  to  preach  to  children ;  he  never 
talked  to  them  about  "nascent  institutions,"  and 
"jubilant  occasions,"  and  "drawing  inferences,"  but 
he  used  the  language  that  was  familiar  to  them,  and, 
as  might  be  expected,  he  was  in  demand  everywhere 
when  they  wanted  to  have  a  rousing  time  for  the 
children.  His  stock  of  anecdotes  and  illustrations 
was  absolutely  inexhaustible,  and  he  could  find  "ser- 
mons in  stones,"  as  everybody  knows  who  ever  heard 
his  discourse  on  the  stones  mentioned  in  Scripture. 
He  left  behind  him  two  sons  in  the  ministry,  both 
of  them  marked  men,  although  in  somewhat  different 
ways,  who  can  be  said  to  have  the  courage  of  their 
own  convictions,  and  not  merely  "the  courage  of 
other  men's  convictions." 

The  Rev.  Mr.  Odenheimer,  afterward  the  Bishop 
of  New  Jersey,  was  just  coming  upon  the  scene,  and 
very  early  began  to  indicate  the  place  which  he  was 
destined  to  take  in  the  Church.  He  belonged  to  the 
advanced  guard  of  the  ecclesiastical  school,  as  it 
then  stood,  although  he  never  went  to  any  vicious 
extremes,  and  never  lost  the  spiritual  fervor  which 
his  Presbyterian  training  gave  him.  He  was  as  kind 
and  amiable  as  a  man  could  be;  indefatigable  in  the 
discharge  of  his  duties,  and  never  seeming  to  need 
any  rest.  I  have  had  a  special  interest  in  Bishop 
Odenheimer,  partly  perhaps  because  I  have  so  often 
been  mistaken  for  him,  and  on  one  occasion  found  it 
difficult  to  convince  a  stranger  that  I  was  not  the 
Bishop  of  New  Jersey ;  he  insisting  upon  it  that  I 
must  be,  saying  with  rather  an  angry  emphasis  that 


REMOVAL  TO   PHILADELPHIA.  83 

he  knew  Bishop  Odenheimer  well  enough  to  identify 
him. 

The  Rev.  Dr.  Duchachet  was  a  prominent  man  in 
his  day,  his  Gallic  exuberance  testifying  to  the 
French  blood  that  ran  in  his  veins.  I  heard  the 
bishop  of  the  diocese  say  that  he  would  show  all  the 
symptoms  of  inebriety  after  drinking  an  ordinary 
cup  of  tea.  He  was  an  active,  brilliant,  attractive 
man,  quick  in  retort  and  with  a  special  gift  in  the  "art 
of  putting  things."  I  once  told  him  that  I  had,  under 
the  same  cover  with  the  sermon  that  I  preached 
before  the  Pennsylvania  Convention  a  while  before, 
the  printed  copy  of  a  charge  recently  delivered  in  a 
country  town  at  a  Presbyterian  ordination,  which 
was  a  transcript  of  my  own  discourse,  with  a  few 
phrases  altered  here  and  there  to  suit  the  occasion. 
He  asked  me  if  I  would  let  him  have  the  two  docu- 
ments for  publication  side  by  side  in  the  Ba?iner  of 
the  Cross,  a  paper  with  which  he  was  connected,  and 
I  declined,  saying  that  I  would  never  expose 
a  man  to  reproach  who  had  discrimination  enough 
to  make  use  of  my  thoughts  in  public.  He  hesi- 
tated a  moment  and  then  said  very  seriously :  "Well, 
this  only  confirms  my  first  impression,  that  you  must 
both  have  stolen  from  the  same  source." 

Dr.  Tyng  was  altogether  the  most  conspicuous  man 
in  our  ranks,  and  the  one  whom  I  had  best  known, 
as  we  were  townsmen,  and  I  could  not  remember  the 
time  when  his  name  was  not  a  household  word. 
When  he  came  to  preach  in  Newburyport  the  whole 
town  was  stirred,  and  for  once  in  the  year  old  St. 
Paul's  Church  was  crowded.  His  preaching  was  in  a 
different  strain  from  that  to  which  the  people  were 


84  REMINISCENCES. 

accustomed,  and  not  altogether  acceptable  to  some; 
his  own  father,  a  Churchman  of  the  old  school,  not 
being  over-fond  of  his  son's  doctrine.  Of  Dr.Tyng's 
general  characteristics  and  career  it  would  be  super- 
fluous to  speak;  we  have  all  recognized  him  as  one 
of  the  most  prominent  features  in  the  history  of  the 
Church — a  man  who  has  brought  multitudes  into  the 
fold  of  Christ  and  wielded  an  influence  on  the  plat- 
form which  has  never  been  surpassed.  He  had  his 
peculiarities,  as  everybody  knows,  and  when  he 
touched  an  explosive  bubble  with  his  lighted  candle 
there  was  not  much  left.  He  was  not  over-patient 
in  dealing  with  sentimental  sorrows,  but  if  a  person 
went  to  him  with  a  real  burden  and  actually  desirous 
to  find  the  way  of  truth,  no  one  could  be  more  ten- 
der and  considerate  and  sympathetic.  His  life  has 
been  twice  written — once  by  himself,  after  he  had 
apparently  forgotten  some  things  in  his  early  career, 
and  again  by  his  friends  with  much  care  and  dis- 
crimination. There  were  features  in  his  life  which 
some  staid  persons  might  think  it  derogatory  to  his 
memory  to  perpetuate,  but  not  by  any  who  would 
like  to  know  just  what  a  great  man  was,  and  not 
what  we  think  he  ought  to  have  been.  I  shall  try 
not  to  violate  the  confidence  of  friendship  or  infringe 
upon  the  proprieties  of  social  life,  although  this  may 
be  questioned  when  I  say  that  I  shall  begin  with  a 
little  sketch  of  Dr.  Tyng  as  the  supposed  conductor 
of  a  circus. 

Between  fifty  and  sixty  years  ago,  when  we  were 
passing  our  summer  vacation  together  in  Newbury- 
port,  the  doctor  proposed  that  we  should  make  up 
a  party  on  horseback,  and  ride  over  in  the  afternoon 


REMOVAL  TO   PHILADELPHIA.  85 

to  Amesbury,  a  little  town  a  few  miles  off,  which  is 
noted  as  the  residence  of  the  poet  Whittier.  With 
our  two  families  united  we  made  up  quite  a  respect- 
able display,  the  female  portion  of  the  group  being 
in  the  majority,  and  so  we  started  for  Amesbury. 
It  happened  to  be  the  day  preceding  the  Fourth  of 
July,  and  as  they  were  expecting  a  circus  to  visit 
the  place  at  that  time,  the  boys,  who  were  on  the 
lookout,  when  they  saw  this  strange  cavalcade 
approaching — women  on  horseback  being  an  un- 
wonted sight  in  that  region — cried  out  at  the  top  of 
their  voices,  "The  circus  is  coming!"  As  soon  as 
these  sounds  were  heard  the  doctor  said :  "We  must 
carry  out  this  thing  for  a  while,  and  I  will  ride  in 
front,  while  you  form  in  line  and  obey  my  orders." 
This  we  did  with  great  success,  our  captain  conduct- 
ing himself  with  more  than  ordinary  gravity,  and 
before  the  performance  was  over  we  found  ourselves 
in  the  midst  of  a  dense  crowd,  and  word  was  given 
to  halt.  Dr.  Tyng  then  improved  the  occasion, 
after  informing  them  that  we  were  not  the  real  cir- 
cus, by  stating  that  there  was  to  be  a  service  in  St. 
James'  Church  on  the  next  Saturday  evening,  and 
they  must  all  be  there  and  bring  everybody  else 
with  them ;  and  now  he  said,  "Give  us  three  round 
cheers  and  we  will  be  off!"  and  so  amid  the  cheer- 
ing we  galloped  away.  I  presume  that  the  beneficial 
results  of  the  circus  performance  appeared  on  Satur- 
day night. 

On  another  occasion  there  was  a  great  gathering 
in  the  Academy  of  Music  in  New  York,  for  the 
benefit  of  the  children  of  the  various  city  societies, 
who  were  assembled  on  the  stage  in  crowds,  and  I 


86  REMINISCENCES. 

was  one  of  the  speakers  appointed  to  address  the 
meeting.  The  little  life  that  I  had  in  me  at  the 
beginning  was  pretty  thoroughly  extinguished  by 
the  weary  speeches  to  which  we  were  obliged  to 
listen,  and  feeling  that  I  had  no  capacity  left  to  rise 
above  their  level — and  I  was  to  close  the  meeting — 
I  whispered  to  the  chairman  that  the  whole  thing 
was  killed  unless  he  could  induce  Dr.  Tyng,  who 
was  on  the  platform,  to  say  something.  He  replied 
that  he  had  been  entreating  him  to  do  so,  but  he 
utterly  refused.  I  then  told  him  that  I  thought  I 
could  bring  the  doctor  to  his  feet,  and  accordingly, 
after  saying  a  few  stupid  words  to  the  fashionable 
audience,  I  turned  to  the  children  and  told  them 
that  as  this  was  their  affair,  I  thought  something 
should  be  said  to  them.  "And  now,"  I  began, 
after  the  accredited  form,  "I  am  going  to  tell  you 
a  story.  In  the  town  where  I  was  born  and  brought 
up  there  was  once  a  remarkable  little  boy,  who 
always  wanted  to  be  doing  something,  and  when 
the  vacation  came  he  was  very  miserable  because  he 
had  to  be  idle.  So  one  morning  he  went  to  his 
aunt,  who  had  charge  of  him,  and  said  :  'Aunt  Becca, 
I  don't  know  what  to  do  with  myself!'  and  she 
replied:  'Stephen,  take  a  case-knife  and  go  out  and 
scrape  one  of  the  old  apple  trees  in  the  orchard.' 
Well,  not  to  make  the  story  too  long,  before  he  got 
through — and  he  was  a  week  about  it — he  had 
scraped  all  the  trees  in  the  garden  and  entirely  wore 
out  the  case-knife.  This  little  boy  grew  up  to  be  a 
man,  and  kept  on  scraping  things  all  the  time,  try- 
ing to  make  them  look  brighter  and  better,  and  he 
is  still  alive,  and  he  lives  in  this  city,  not  far  from 


REMOVAL  TO   PHILADELPHIA.  8/ 

this  place,  and  he  is  in  this  house  to-night,  and  he 
is  on  this  platform,  and  his  name  is  Dr.  Tyng,  and 
I  am  sure  he  will  not  let  you  go  home  to-night 
without  saying  something  to  you."  This  brought 
him  to  his  feet,  and  he  began,  as  I  supposed  he 
would,  by  settling  accounts  with  me,  telling  them 
what  I  used  to  do  when  I  was  a  tadpole  minister,  as 
he  expressed  it,  drawing  somewhat  copiously  upon 
his  imagination  for  his  facts,  and  then  going  on  in 
his  wonderful  way  to  make  them  all  laugh  and  all 
cry;  in  short,  he  "saved  the  meeting." 

The  reply  that  he  once  made  to  a  mild-mannered 
parishioner,  who  took  the  liberty  of  saying  to  him 
that  his  people  would  be  very  much  gratified  if  he 
would  restrain  his  temper  a  little,  is  probably  familiar 
to  the  reader:  "My  dear  sir,  I  have  restrained  more 
temper  in  half  an  hour  than  you  ever  did  in  your 
whole  life."  After  a  somewhat  lively  scene,  when 
he  had  begun  to  cool  off,  I  observed  that  "I  could 
account  for  these  occasional  ebullitions  of  feeling, 
because  I  knew  how  much  quicksilver  there  was  in 
his  veins,  for  which  his  ancestors  were  responsible," 
when  he  broke  in,  "Don't  call  it  quicksilver,  call  it 
sin — that  is  what  it  is ;  but  no  one  knows  how  I 
struggle  and  pray  and  fight  to  keep  my  temper  in 
subjection." 

The  election  of  Professor  Alonzo  Potter  to  the 
Episcopate  of  Pennsylvania  occurred  in  1845,  ^"^ 
was  a  notable  event.  After  the  accredited  candi- 
dates of  the  two  great  parties  were  defeated,  of 
which  number  I  happened  to  be  one — although,  in 
the  event  of  my  election,  I  think  that  I  should  have 
had  sense  enough  to  decline — the  name  of  Dr.  Potter 


SS  REMINISCENCES. 

was  presented  to  the  Convention,  and  to  my  great 
delight  he  was  elected,  but  only  by  a  majority  of 
one  on  the  part  of  the  clergy — a  nomination  which 
at  once  was  unanimously  confirmed  by  the  laity. 
It  was  a  great  event  in  the  history  of  the  diocese  and 
the  Church.  A  man  of  noble  presence,  he  at  once  im- 
pressed you  as  one  born  to  rule — as  a  leader  of  men, 
z.  jure  divino  leader.  He  had  had  large  and  varied 
experience  of  men,  and  had  accustomed  himself  to 
look  closely  at  whatever  subject  might  be  submitted 
to  his  inspection,  and  to  look  at  it  on  all  sides.  He 
regarded  the  Church  as  having  other  functions 
besides  the  preservation  of  dogma  and  the  perpetua- 
tion of  ecclesiastical  institutions;  he  regarded  it  as 
God's  instrument  for  the  elevation  and  redemption 
of  mankind,  and  directly  concerned  with  everything 
that  pertains  to  the  moral  elevation  of  the  human 
race.  For  this  reason  he  took  great  interest  in  the 
establishment  of  educational  and  humanitarian 
institutions,  and  was  very  active  in  what  was  known 
as  the  Memorial  Movement,  which  had  for  its  object 
the  removal  of  some  of  the  fetters  which  in  days 
past  shackled  the  Church  and  impaired  its  useful- 
ness. He  longed  to  see  the  standard  of  theological 
training  lifted  to  a  higher  plane,  and  such  text- 
books introduced  and  such  modes  of  teaching  as  are 
demanded  by  the  necessities  of  the  age  in  which  we 
live.  His  whole  mental  tone  was  in  striking  con- 
trast to  that  of  his  great  contemporary,  the  late  Car- 
dinal Newman,  who  would  have  the  universe  revolve 
around  one  or  two  centers  of  thought,  and  cared  for 
nothing  that  could  not  be  brought  within  that  orbit. 
Bishop  Potter  never  stultified  his  reason  in  order  to 


REMOVAL   TO   PHILADELPHIA,  89 

bring  within  the  range  of  his  belief  silly  stories  of 
winking  Madonnas,  and  miraculous  liquefaction  of 
blood,  and  all  the  other  foolish  things  which,  by 
some  strange  twist  of  his  mind,  Dr.  Newman  man^ 
aged  to  accept.  Bishop  Potter  addressed  himself  to 
the  real  wants  of  humanity,  its  actual  spiritual  and 
moral  necessities.  He  found  a  place  for  Christian 
truth  in  the  domain  of  philosophy  and  science,  and 
feared  no  contest  with  either.  He  accepted  as  divine 
the  revelations  of  God,  wherever  they  were  to  be 
found  and  however  they  might  be  disclosed,  and  so 
he  has  left  his  mark  upon  the  Church  and  upon  the 
world  in  a  way  that  can  never  be  obliterated.  I 
shall  never  forget  the  debt  I  owe  him,  when,  in  a 
period  of  such  perplexity  and  doubt  that  the  found- 
ations seemed  to  be  sinking  under  my  feet,  he  came 
to  my  rescue  and  showed  me  v/here  the  rock  was  to 
be  found  that  could  never  be  shaken.  His  life  was 
too  short.  We  need  such  men  sorely  in  these  times. 
One  of  the  most  important  sessions  of  the  General 
Convention  that  we  have  ever  had  met  in  St. 
Andrew's  Church  during  the  period  of  my  rector- 
ship. It  was  distinguished  by  the  presence  of  a 
great  many  eminent  laymen,  who  took  a  very  active 
part  in  its  proceedings — such  men  as  Edward  A. 
Newton  of  Massachusetts,  Samuel  H.  Huntington 
of  Connecticut,  Julian  C.  Verplank  and  David  B. 
Ogden  of  New  York,  Horace  Binney  of  Pennsyl- 
vania, Judge  Chambers  of  Maryland,  Isaac  B.  Parker 
of  New  Jersey,  William  H.  Macfarland  of  Virginia, 
Levi  Woodbury  of  New  Hampshire,  John  M.  Ber- 
rien of  Georgia,  E.  G.  Memminger  of  South  Caro- 
lina, and  many  others  of  high  rank  and  influence. 


QO  REMINISCENCES. 

The  opening  sermon  was  preached  by  Bishop  Ives 
of  North  Carolina,  who  soon  after  entered  the 
Roman  Church;  it  was  not  a  discourse  that  made 
any  special  impression,  and  the  bishop  did  not 
appear  to  be  in  very  good  humor  that  morning,  for 
when  I  conveyed  to  him  some  slight  message  from 
the  presiding  bishop,  he  replied  in  a  rude  way  that 
he  understood  his  business  and  did  not  need  advice 
from  any  quarter. 

The  House  of  Bishops,  twenty-five  in  number, 
were  comfortably  accommodated  in  the  vestry-room 
of  St.  Andrew's  Church,  which  at  the  present  time 
would  furnish  very  inadequate  quarters  for  the 
crowd. 

It  was  about  the  time  of  Dr.  Newman's  abandon- 
ment of  the  English  communion  that  the  Conven- 
tion met,  and  the  Church  was  agitated  to  its  center 
by  the  hopes  and  fears  incident  to  the  Oxford 
revival,  as  it  is  now  sometimes  called.  The  discus- 
sions of  the  Convention  with  all  the  resolutions  pro 
and  con  debated,  amended,  modified,  and  all  at  last 
laid  on  the  shelf,  ended  with  the  conclusion  that  the 
only  thing  to  be  done  was  to  do  nothing,  and  trust 
to  the  conservative  and  recuperative  power  of  the 
Church  to  right  itself  and  keep  its  head  above  water. 
The  ReVo  Dr.  Forbes,  who  had  been  suspected  of 
unsoundness  to  the  Protestant  faith,  made  an  elab- 
orate speech  in  his  defense,  and  shortly  after  gave 
in  his  adhesion  to  the  Church  of  Rome,  from  which, 
after  a  fair  experiment,  he  returned  to  his  old  home, 
*  'discharged — ciircdr 

The  contest  waged  fierce  and  strong  and  fasci- 
nated the  gallery  visitors,  mostly  of  the  gentler  sex, 


REMOVAL  TO    PHILADELPHIAo  9I 

to  such  a  degree  'hat  they  brought  their  dinners 
with  them,  in  order  to  retain  their  seats  for  the  day. 
At  that  time  no  one  could  foresee  the  form  which 
things  were  destined  to  assume:  the  wiping  out  of 
the  party  lines  which  then  divided  the  Church,  the 
new  issues  that  have  come  to  the  surface,  the  extra- 
ordinary changes  in  the  aspect  of  our  churches  and 
the  style  of  our  services,  the  ripening  of  Evangelical 
fervor  in  quarters  that  once  bore  the  label  of  "high 
and  dry,"  and  the  melting  away  of  the  sharp-lined 
doctrinal  lines  that  distinguished  the  other  section 
of  the  Churchc 

The  grand  dramatic  feature  of  the  Convention 
was  the  arraignment  and  defense  of  the  Rev.  Dr. 
Hawks,  who  had  been  elected  Bishop  of  Mississippi, 
and  on  the  presentation  of  his  papers  to  the  Conven- 
tion for  approval  was  vigorously  assailed  on  the 
charge  of  gross  irregularities  in  the  conduct  of 
financial  affairs  in  the  great  school  which  he  had 
started,  and  which  proved  to  be  a  lamentable  failurCc 
I  shall  never  forget  the  scene  when  Dn  Hawks  rose 
to  make  his  defense.  The  church  was  crowded  to 
its  utmost  capacity,  the  bishops  filled  the  chancel, 
and  the  hush  of  death  pervaded  the  edifice,  as  the 
doctor  left  the  pew  and  took  his  place  in  the  aisle 
facing  the  crowd,  to  plead  for  his  life,  or  for  that 
which  to  him  was  dearer  than  life.  Always  grand 
and  eloquent,  it  is  easier  to  understand  how  eloquent 
he  must  have  been  with  such  an  issue  as  this  before 
him.  Hour  after  hour  his  majestic  voice  resounded 
through  the  church,  sometimes  trembling  like  the 
deep  sub-bass  of  the  organ,  then  quivering  with  a 
gentle  pathos  that  brought  tears  to   many  an  eye. 


92 


REMINISCENCES. 


striking  chord  after  chord  as  only  a  master  of  speech 
could  do,  and  all  the  while  avoiding  as  far  as  pos- 
sible all  discussion  of  the  actual  merits  of  the  case. 
It  was  late  in  the  evening  when  he  closed  his  touch- 
ing and  powerful  appeal,  and  instantly  the  Rev. 
Dr.  Strong  of  Massachusetts,  with  the  tears  rolling 
down  his  eyes,  moved  that  the  Convention  proceed 
at  once  to  sign  his  testimonials.  If  the  vote  had 
been  taken  immediately,  it  is  very  probable  that  the 
doctor's  motion  would  have  passed  by  acclamation ; 
but  Judge  Chambers  of  Maryland,  who  never  lost 
his  head,  rose  and  said  that,  judging  from  his  own 
feelings,  he  did  not  think  the  Convention  was  sufifi- 
ciently  composed  to  act  at  once,  and  moved  an 
adjournment.  The  next  day,  when  the  vote  was 
taken,  good  Dr.  Strong  voted  against  the  confirma- 
tion. It  all  resulted  in  referring  the  whole  matter 
back  to  the  diocese  of  Misssisippi,  and  there  the 
matter  ended. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

RETURN  TO   BOSTON. 

After  a  few  years  I  found  myself  again  in  Bos- 
ton, a  city  to  which  men  are  much  inclined  to  return 
after  they  have  once  had  a  residence  there.  The 
clerical  atmosphere  differed  somewhat  from  that  of 
Philadelphia;  the  clergy  were  not  as  prominent  an 
element  as  in  the  old  Quaker  city ;  they  were  not 
treated  with  as  much  deference  or  so  likely  to  be 
spoiled  by  attention.  The  code  of  clerical  proprieties 
was  not  precisely  the  same ;  it  did  not  damage  a 
minister's  reputation  to  go  to  a  concert,  or  even  to 
attend  the  Sunday  night  Handel  and  Haydn  ora- 
torios, which  the  best  Christians  patronized  without 
scruple.  Conventional  morality  changes  color,  like 
the  chameleon,  with  the  change  in  the  atmosphere. 

The  Episcopal  Church  in  Boston  was  creeping 
slowly  along  when  I  returned  in  1847;  the  Church 
of  the  Messiah  and  St.  Matthew's  Church  in  South 
Boston  were  struggling  with  the  trials  of  childhood ; 
St.  Stephen's,  a  free  church  for  the  poor,  had  been 
started  by  the  Rev.  E.  M.  P.  Wells,  a  man  who 
sacrificed  all  his  personal  comforts  for  the  good  of 
others,  keeping  open  house  night  and  day  for  all 
the  wretched  tramps  who  might  turn  up ;  and  a 
chapel  for  seamen  had  also  come  into  being.  Dr. 
.  Croswell  had  removed  to  Western  New  York,  but, 
in  accordance  with  the  instinct  of  which  I  have  just 

93 


94  REMINISCENCES. 

spoken,  had  returned  to  Boston  and  become  the 
rector  of  the  Church  of  the  Advent,  destined  to 
make  an  important  change  in  the  ecclesiastical 
atmosphere.  Dr.  Wainwright  had  gone  to  New 
York,  soon  to  become  the  bishop  of  the  diocese, 
and  Dr.  Stone  had  removed  to  Brooklyn,  after  a 
v^^hile  to  come  back  to  Boston,  as  Dr.  Croswell  did, 
and  as  I  did,  and  as  Dr.  Alexander  H.  Vinton  a 
few  years  later  did. 

It  is  of  this  distinguished  presbyter  that  I  now 
propose  to  speak.  He  was  a  ponderous  man,  not 
only  in  his  physical  frame,  but  in  the  spiritual  power 
manifesting  itself  in  his  countenance  and  in  the 
tones  of  his  majestic,  resonant  voice.  In  many 
respects  he  had  no  superior  in  the  ranks  of  our 
ministry.  His  mind  was  well  stored  in  every  depart- 
ment, and  with  all  its  furniture  orderly  arranged. 
He  may  not  have  been  a  very  erudite  scholar  in  any 
one  department,  but  he  knew  all  that  one  needs  to 
know  in  order  to  the  discharge  of  the  highest 
duties  of  life.  What  he  read  he  digested,  and  what 
he  had  digested  he  remembered,  and  his  knowledge 
was  always  at  his  command  when  it  was  needed. 
This  was  particularly  evident  when  he  was  called  to 
speak  without  any  time  for  preparation,  especially 
if  he  spoke  under  the  impulse  of  righteous  exaspera- 
tion, when  his  words  came  like  the  irresistible  move- 
ment of  a  cataract.  Singularly  enough,  even  in  such 
a  case  as  this,  you  were  conscious  of  an  amount  of 
reserved  power,  resources  that  had  not  yet  been 
drawn  upon ;  the  waters  seemed  to  flow  like  a  foun- 
tain that  could  never  be  exhausted.  There  are 
those  living  who  will  never  forget  how  his  voice 


RETURN   TO   BOSTON.  95 

thundered  and  his  eye  flashed  when,  in  the  General 
Convention,  a  measure  was  brought  forward  which 
he  felt  deserved  to  be  treated  with  scorn  and  against 
which  all  the  noble  elements  of  his  nature  rose  in 
opposition.  At  such  times  it  was  a  dangerous  thing 
to  come  within  reach  of  his  saber,  which  did  terrible 
execution  wherever  it  fell. 

As  a  preacher  he  united  in  the  most  harmonious 
manner  the  elements  of  thoughtfulness,  rigid  reason- 
ing, rich  and  varied  illustrations,  tenderness  of  feel- 
ing, and  unsparing  faithfulness.  I  remember  with 
much  distinctness  sermons  that  I  heard  him  preach 
more  than  half  a  century  ago ;  they  were  of  the 
kind  that  are  not  merely  painted  on  the  memory, 
but  bicrned  in,  so  that  they  became  indelible. 

His  gifts  in  familiar  conversation  were  perhaps 
more  remarkable  than  his  public  utterances,  and  I 
have  often  thought  that  he  was  at  his  best  when, 
seated  in  his  study  chair,  with  his  inevitable  pipe  in 
hand,  he  poured  himself  forth  as  if  talk  were  with 
him  one  of  the  fine  arts.  He  enjoyed  this  sort  of 
intellectual  exercise  more  than  he  did  platform 
speech-making,  and  far  more  than  he  did  the  task  of 
writing;  for,  although  he  gave  his  whole  heart  and 
mind  to  it  when  he  did  write,  it  was  an  effort  for 
him  to  sit  down  and  deliberately  address  himself  to 
the  task.  For  this  reason  he  would  sometimes  make 
one  piece  of  composition  serve  several  purposes,  and 
I  have  read  one  of  the  sermons  that  I  heard  him 
preach  as  a  magazine  article,  which  had  also  been 
delivered  as  a  lyceum  lecture.  Active  as  he  was, 
so  far  as  the  operations  of  his  mind  were  concerned, 
there  was  a  natural  inertia  in  his  constitution  which 


96  REMINISCENCES. 

sometimes  made  it  hard  to  keep  him  to  his  work. 
I  recall  a  missionary  meeting  in  my  own  church,  for 
which  I  relied  almost  entirely  upon  him,  and  just 
before  his  time  came  he  whispered  to  me  that  he 
could  not  say  anything,  as  we  were  at  that  moment 
enduring  one  of  those  wet-blanket  addresses  which 
take  the  warmth  out  of  everything.  In  my  wrath  I 
told  him  that  if  he  failed  me  that  night  I  would 
never  have  anything  more  to  do  with  him,  and  this 
settled  the  matter. 

It  was  not  very  generally  known  that  he  had  a 
great  passion  for  mechanics,  and  excelled  particularly 
in  the  manufacture  of  fishing-rods.  His  patient 
endurance  as  a  fisherman  was  never  exhausted,  and 
he  would  toss  about  on  the  waves  all  day,  content 
with  a  few  respectable  nibbles  and  one  or  two  minia- 
ture fish. 

During  one  winter  I  passed  all  the  Monday  morn- 
ings with  him,  when  we  read  aloud,  each  in  his  turn, 
a  synopsis  of  the  various  forms  of  modern  philosophy ; 
after  which  we  went  to  dinner  and  entertained  the 
ladies  with  such  technicalities  as  "The  potence  of 
subsumption,"  "The  intuitional  consciousness," 
"The  categorical  imperative,"  and  so  on,  introduced 
where  they  would  be  most  inappropriate.  The  ele- 
ment of  humor  was  not  at  all  conspicious  in  Dr.  Vin- 
ton, but  it  lay  coiled  up  in  its  place,  ready  for  a 
spring  when  the  occasion  offered. 

Beginning  his  career  as  an  unbeliever,  his  mind 
was  for  the  first  time  seriously  impressed  by  the 
sweet  patience  and  placid  resignation  of  a  young 
woman  whom  he  was  visiting  as  a  physician,  and  he 
could   not  help  saying  to  himself,  "There  must  be 


RETURN  TO   BOSTON.  97 

something  worth  looking  into  in  a  Christian  faith 
that  is  able  to  inspire  such  a  sufferer  as  this  with  so 
much  quietness  and  peace,"  and  after  her  death  he 
took  in  hand  the  reading  of  Butler's  Analogy,  and 
this  determined  the  whole  tenor  of  his  life ;  he  gave 
up  his  practice  as  a  physician,  and  entered  upon  his 
great  career  as  a  minister  of  Christ.  From  that  time 
his  faith  never  faltered;  sustained  and  stimulated 
by  a  deep  and  real  Christian  earnestness,  he  was 
ready  on  all  occasions  to  vindicate  the  honor  of  his 
Master  and  press  His  claims  home  upon  the  careless 
and  unbelieving,  and  at  last,  when  the  end  came,  he 
sank  quietly  to  rest  in  the  arms  of  the  Saviour,  in 
whom  he  had  trusted  for  many  a  year. 

During  my  stay  in  Boston  as  his  assistant  in 
Trinity  Church,  my  relations  to  Bishop  Eastburn 
were  of  a  somewhat  delicate  nature.  It  was  pre- 
scribed by  the  terms  of  the  foundation  upon  which 
the  assistantship  was  based,  that  the  assistant 
should  read  the  service  once  and  preach  once  on 
every  Sunday,  and  also  read  Morning  Prayer  on 
every  alternate  Saint's  Day,  and  here  his  duties 
ended.  I  was  never  asked  to  preach  in  the  mornings 
when  the  regular  congregation  were  presumed  to  be 
present,  except  on  one  occasion,  when  the  Bishop 
told  me  that  as  he  had  used  up  all  his  ordination 
sermons,  he  was  obliged  to  ask  me  to  preach  on  the 
next  Sunday  morning,  when  a  young  man  was  to  be 
admitted  to  deacon's  orders. 

If  there  ever  was  a  man  who  never  covered  up 
things,  or  did  anything  under  false  pretenses.  Bishop 
Eastburn  was  that  man.  The  Rev.  Dr.  Clement  M. 
Butler  told  me  that  on  the  morning  of  a  Sunday  in 


98  REMINISCENCES. 

midsummer  he  dropped  into  the  vestry  room  of 
Trinity  Church  just  before  service,  and  to  his  sur- 
prise the  bishop  asked  him  to  preach.  "I  am 
astonished  at  this,"  said  the  doctor;  "I  thought  you 
never  invited  anyone  to  preach  in  the  morni7ig.'' 
"That  is  my  rule,"  was  the  reply,  "but  this  is"  a  very 
hot  day  and  there  will  be  hardly  anybody  there,  and 
I  think  you  had  better  preach." 

Few  men  ever  have  a  stronger  hold  upon  his 
people  than  Dr.  Eastburn  possessed  when  he  was 
the  rector  of  the  Church  of  the  Ascension  in  New 
York.  He  was  regarded  as  the  model  pastor,  and 
all  his  ministrations  were  most  acceptable  to  the 
people  of  his  charge.  It  was  a  parish  which  he  had 
formed  and  fashioned  after  his  own  model,  and  from 
the  beginning  there  had  always  been  the  most  entire 
confidence  and  sympathy  between  him  and  his  con- 
gregation. It  was  the  reputation  which  he  had 
thus  acquired  in  New  York,  and  the  very  favorable 
impression  made  by  a  brief  missionary  address 
delivered  in  Boston,  that  led  to  his  election  to  the 
bishopric  of  Massachusetts.  That  election  was 
absolutely  unanimous  on  the  first  balloting,  with  the 
exception  of  one  blank  vote,  and  the  bishop  entered 
upon  his  new  career  with  the  hearty  support  and  full 
confidence  of  all  sections  in  the  Church.  Every- 
thing went  very  smoothly  at  first,  or  would  have 
done  so  but  for  the  apprehension  of  some  persons 
that  the  bishop  was  inclining  rather  too  favorably 
toward  the  High  Church  party — an  anxiety  that  was 
soon  relieved  by  very  decided  demonstrations  in  the 
opposite  direction.  Another  cloud  appeared  in  the 
horizon  when  those  who  had  been  most  active  in 


RETURN   TO   BOSTON.  99 

securing  him  the  rectorship  of  Trinity  Church  began 
to  wince  under  his  direct  and  searching  sermons  and 
the  undiluted  evangelical  doctrine  that  he  persis- 
tently preached,  and  they  were  accustomed  to  say 
that  he  did  not  seem  to  understand  the  tone  and 
temper  of  the  region  to  which  he  had  been  called. 
It  is  very  true  that  the  atmosphere  of  Massachusetts 
was  not  altogether  congenial  to  him,  and  it  never 
became  so;  neither  was  the  ecclesiastical  tone  of 
some  of  the  clergy  entirely  satisfactory  to  his  mind. 
It  was  said,  at  the  time  of  his  death,  that  his  loss 
was  much  deplored  by  one  or  two  of  the  more 
gladiatorial  clergy  of  the  diocese,  because  they  had 
always  regarded  him  "as  a  foeman  worthy  of  their 
steel." 

In  his  way,  Bishop  Eastburn  was  a  very  strong 
churchman.  In  the  administration  of  affairs  he  was 
rigid  and  scrupulous,  sometimes  a  little  over-scrupu- 
lous. Under  no  circumstances  would  he  administer 
confirmation  privately,  on  the  ground  that  it  was 
recognized  by  the  Church  only  as  a  public  ordinance, 
and  for  similar  reasons  he  would  never  read  the 
Burial  office  in  a  private  house.  If,  in  visiting  a 
church,  he  observed  that  the  minister  did  not  bow 
in  the  Creed,  he  was  sure  to  reach  him  when  the  time 
came  for  the  bishop  to  address  the  Sunday-school. 
"Children,"  he  would  say,  "do  you  bow  reverently 
when  you  repeat  the  blessed  name  of  Jesus  in  the 
Creed?"  and  it  is  easy  to  imagine  what  would  be 
likely  to  follow.  He  once  rebuked  me  for  catechiz- 
ing the  children  from  the  chancel  in  my  black  gown, 
after  I  came  down  from  the  pulpit,  and  said  that  he 
wished  me  hereafter  to  go  back  to  the  vestry  room 


loo  REMINISCENCES. 

and  put  on  my  surplice  again,  as  the  chancel  should 
never  be  entered  in  any  other  garb. 

It  was  enough  for  the  bishop  that  a  thing  was 
already  established,  and  that  was  a  sufficient  reason 
for  its  continuance.  The  suggestion  of  any  change 
in  the  Book  of  Common  Prayer  was  to  him  intoler- 
able. When  the  expediency  of  modifying  the  preface 
to  the  Confirmation  office  was  under  discussion  in 
the  House  of  Bishops,  he  opposed  it  with  all  his 
might,  declaring  that  to  him  it  was  one  of  the  most 
precious  things  in  the  book,  and  that  he  had  found 
it  invaluable  in  stemming  the  tide  of  heresy  and 
unbelief  in  his  own  diocese. 

His  love  for  the  Church  was  in  some  degree  attrib- 
utable to  its  having  been  imported  from  England. 
He  happened  to  be  born  there,  and  never  entirely 
recovered  from  it,  continuing  to  the  end  of  his  days 
always  to  drink  Her  Majesty's  health  on  the  recur- 
rence of  the  Queen's  birthday. 

The  introduction  of  any  novelties  in  the  Church 
disturbed  him  very  much,  whether  pertaining  to 
doctrine  or  usage.  If  a  flower  was  to  be  seen  in 
the  chancel,  nothing  would  induce  him  to  enter  it. 
When  a  member  of  the  House  of  Bishops  was  once 
pleading,  in  behalf  of  certain  new  usages,  that  we 
should  soon  get  used  to  them,  saying  that  the  time 
was  when  flowers  Vv^ere  ofi'ensive  to  some  persons, 
"but,"  he  added,  "who  cares  for  flowers  now?"  "I 
care  about  flowers,"  cried  the  good  bishop  at  the 
top  of  his  voice,  and  without  rising  from  his  seat. 

I  was  present  at  the  consecration  of  a  church  in 
Boston,  when  one  of  the  oldest  clergymen  present, 
as  his  turn  came,  began  to  read  the  Creed,  stand- 


RETURN  TO   BOSTON.  lOI 

ing  between  the  reading  desk  and  the  communion 
table,  with  his  face  turned  toward  the  altar,  when 
the  bishop  in  a  whisper  said,  "Turn  round,"  of 
which  the  aged  presbyter  took  no  notice.  The 
bishop  then  repeated  the  mandate  in  a  louder  tone, 
but  to  no  purpose,  until  he  insisted  that  his  direc- 
tion must  be  complied  with,  or  someone  else  would 
be  called  to  go  on  with  the  service,  when,  by  the 
gentle  compulsion  of  one  of  his  friends,  the  vener- 
able but  somewhat  obstinate  clergyman  took  his 
place  in  the  desk  and  the  service  proceeded.  It 
was  not  an  edifying  scene. 

It  may  be  remembered  that  the  bishop  refused 
to  visit  the  Church  of  the  Advent,  which,  in  his 
time,  represented  the  most  advanced  school  of 
churchmanship,  until,  in  order  to  meet  this  case, 
the  General  Convention  enacted  a  canon,  making  it 
obligatory  upon  the  bishops  to  visit  every  church 
within  their  jurisdiction  as  often  as  once  in  three 
years.  With  this  law  the  bishop,  of  course,  felt 
himself  obliged  to  comply.  A  tolerable  high  func- 
tion had  been  prepared  for  him,  on  the  occasion  of 
his  first  visit  at  the  Church  of  the  Advent,  which  he 
endured  as  well  as  he  could,  and  then  preached  his 
usual  sermon  with  no  allusion  to  what  was  going  on 
around  him.  The  candidates  were  duly  presented 
and  confirmed,  from  one  of  whom  I  had  this  account, 
and  then  the  bishop's  turn  had  come,  of  which  no 
one  who  knew  him  would  hesitate  to  believe  he 
would  fully  avail  himself.  In  the  address  which 
followed  he  had  full  swing;  the  details  have  for  the 
most  part  escaped  from  my  memory,  but  I  remem- 
ber that  the  opening  was  much  like  this:  "I  have 


102  REMINISCENCES. 

now,  in  compliance  with  the  usages  of  our  Com- 
munion, laid  my  hands  upon  you,  and  you  have 
been  confirmed.  To  what  extent  you  comprehend 
the  real  nature  of  this  act  of  dedication,  and  what 
instructions  you  have  received  respecting  it,  I  do 
not  know.  I  think  it  possible  that  you  have  been 
taught  that  this  table  is  an  altar,  but  it  is  not  so, 
inasmuch  as  no  sacrifice  has  ever  been  offered  here 
or  ever  can  be.  You  may  have  been  told  by  those 
gentlemen  in  the  rear  that  they  are  priests  in  the 
Church  of  God.  In  any  real  sense  you  are  as  much 
priests  as  they  are,  for  we  are  taught  in  the  New 
Testament  that  all  the  faithful  are  alike  priests  in 
the  kingdom  of  Christ.  I  made  them  what  they 
are  with  a  breath,  and  I  can  unmake  them  with  a 
breath.  They  may  have  told  you  that  it  is  your 
duty  to  confess  your  sins  to  them.  You  have  as 
much  right  to  insist  that  they  should  confess  their 
sins  to  you.  There  is  but  one  Being  to  whom  we 
can  go  with  our  transgressions  with  any  hope  of 
being  absolved,"  and  so  on,  when,  before  there  was 
time  for  anything  further,  he  said  abruptly,  "Let  us 
pray,"  gave  the  benediction,  and  was  off  in  his  car- 
riage without  further  delay. 

Bishop  Eastburn's  characteristics  as  a  preacher 
may  be  readily  described.  His  extempore  addresses 
were  usually  more  interesting  and  impressive  than 
his  written  discourses.  In  the  pulpit  he  seemed  to 
be  restrained  by  certain  conventional  ideas  as  to  the 
style  and  setting  of  a  sermon,  which  gave  his  dis- 
course an  air  of  artificialness  and  stately  pomp. 
The  construction  of  his  sermons  was  very  uniform, 
and  they  were  always  just  thirty  minutes  long.     In 


RETURN  TO   BOSTON.  IO3 

the  great  majority  of  cases  "man's  fallen  state  by 
nature,"  "justification  by  faith  alone,"  and  some 
general  remarks  on  worldliness  and  the  various 
temptations  of  human  life,  constituted  the  staple  of 
his  discourse.  His  style  was  ample  and  flowing.  I 
remember  his  speaking  of  the  broad  road  as  "that 
vast  arena  frequented  by  far  the  largest  numerical 
majority."  It  was  his  favorite  habit  to  speak  of 
man  as  "a  denizen  of  earth,"  or  again  as  "a  worm  of 
the  dust,"  and  of  Europe  as  "a  foreign  strand." 
"Our  inimitable  Liturgy"  was  a  phrase  with  which 
we  became  very  familiar.  He  rarely  gave  offense 
by  the  introduction  of  novel  thoughts,  or  overtaxed 
the  mental  powers  by  abstruse  arguments.  In  fact 
he  was  not  accustomed  to  argue  at  all,  but  con- 
tented himself  with  delivering  the  truth,  as  he 
received  it,  clearly,  forcibly,  earnestly,  and  with 
some  degree  of  reiteration,  and  then  saying  in 
effect,  "There  it  stands,  just  as  I  have  shown  you. 
Reject  it  at  your  peril!"  An  intelligent  English 
woman,  after  Dr.  Vinton  had  preached  one  of  his 
great  sermons,  told  me  that  she  was  much  more 
profited  by  the  bishop's  discourse,  because  she 
could  not  help  listening  while  Dr.  Vinton  was 
preaching,  and  so  she  lost  the  benefit  of  the  disci- 
pline which  she  had  in  trying  to  follow  the  bishop. 
With  all  these  drawbacks,  I  do  not  doubt  that  his 
preaching  was  very  profitable  to  many  and  met  all 
their  spiritual  wants,  which  is,  after  all,  the  great 
thing.  He  never  kept  back  any  part  of  the  counsel 
of  God,  from  the  desire  to  win  popular  favor;  he  was 
as  true  and  sincere  in  his  preaching  as  he  was  in  his 
life,  and  that  is  saying  a  great  deal.     His  theology 


104  REMINISCENCES. 

was  of  the  strictest  and  straitest  "Simeon  and 
Carus"  school,  a  moderate  dilution  of  Calvinism, 
with  a  few  familiar  evangelical  formulas  always 
prominent,  and  always  enforced  with  all  the  might 
at  his  command.  For  all  modern  phases  of  thought 
he  had  an  unmitigated  contempt,  and  what  is  now 
known  as  the  Higher  Criticism  would  have  been  to 
him  an  absolute  abomination.  He  never  had  any 
doubts  of  his  own,  and  could  not  understand  how 
any  other  human  being  could  possibly  doubt  or 
honestly  differ  from  him  in  his  opinions,  and  yet  he 
was  an  humble-minded  man,  and  I  do  not  believe 
that  he  over-estimated  his  own  abilities.  He  once 
said  that  he  had  never  changed  his  religious  views 
since  he  was  seven  years  of  age — a  remark  which  is 
suggestive.  That  he  was  honest  and  earnest  no  one 
could  ever  question,  and  he  was  as  transparent  as 
a  clear  cube  of  crystal,  and  as  hard,  where  opinions 
were  concerned.  He  was  a  simple-hearted  Chris- 
tian, and  very  lovable  and  affable,  when  there  were 
no  theological  obstructions  in  the  way. 

It  was  somewhat  noticeable,  that  while  he  did  not 
seek  the  company  of  his  own  brethren  who  hap- 
pened to  differ  from  him  in  non-essential  matters,  he 
was  on  excellent  terms  with  some  with  whom  he 
could  have  had  no  theological  sympathy  whatever, 
and  when  Bishop  Fitzpatrick,  the  Roman  Catholic 
Bishop  of  Boston,  died,  he  pronounced  a  beauti- 
ful eulogy  upon  him  before  the  club  of  which  they 
were  members.  Like  some  of  the  ancient  prophets 
and  John  the  Baptist,  he  may  have  worn  a  rough 
garment,  but  never  to  deceive — there  was  a  generous 
heart  beating  underneath  his  bristling  panoply.     He 


RETURN   TO   BOSTON.  10$ 

was  a  devout  man  and  lived  in  habitual  communion 
with  his  Saviour.  It  is  impossible  to  conceive  of 
his  ever  doing  anything  against  his  conscience.  He 
always  stood  uncovered  before  God. 

The  three  original  Episcopal  churches  of  Boston 
continued  to  hold  certain  bequests  and  funds  in 
common,  after  King's  Chapel  had  relapsed  into 
Unitarianism,  and  for  a  long  time  the  Lent  lectures 
continued  to  be  preached  there,  although  they 
were  established  for  the  maintenance  of  orthodox 
doctrine. 

The  Episcopal  Charitable  Society  was  another 
old  association,  the  funds  of  which  pertained  to  the 
three  churches  and  could  not  be  alienated.  It  fell 
to  my  lot  to  deliver  the  sermon  in  King's  Chapel  on 
the  hundred  and  fiftieth  aniversary,  when  the  entire 
service  of  our  Church  was  read.  I  had  strange 
emotions  as  I  stood  in  that  venerable  pulpit  and 
remembered  that  it  was  on  that  spot  the  old  Colo- 
nial governors  insisted  upon  intruding  the  Episco- 
pal service  upon  the  Puritan  Commonwealth,  and 
that  this  was  the  church  which  the  Tories  deserted 
in  the  troublous  times  of  the  Revolution,  leaving 
their  pews  to  be  occupied  by  another  generation, 
destined  to  repudiate  the  faith  of  their  fathers. 

There  is  a  military  company  in  Boston,  known  by 
the  title  of  the  Ancient  and  Honorable  Artillery 
Company,  which  has  been  in  existence  about  as 
long  as  Boston  itself,  and  they  have  always  been 
accustomed  once  in  the  year  to  go  to  church  and 
hear  a  sermon.  I  was  once  called  to  deliver  this 
discourse  and  I  took  for  my  text,  Isaiah  ix.  15: 
"The  ancient  and  honorable,  he  is  the  head."     Some 


Io6  REMINISCENCES. 

surprise  was  expressed  that  such  an  appropriate 
text  had  never  been  lighted  upon  before,  but  the 
problem  was  solved  the  next  morning  when  a  news- 
paper, devoted  to  the  extermination  of  everything 
in  the  line  of  military  preparation,  in  allusion  to  the 
text,  observed  that  the  preacher  had  quoted  only 
the  first  part  of  the  passage,  but  his  discourse  amply 
vindicated  the  truth  of  the  latter  portion,  the  entire 
text  being,  "The  ancient  and  honorable,  he  is  the 
head ;  and  the  prophet  that  speaketh  lies,  he  is  the 
tail."  I  anticipated  something  of  this  sort,  but 
could  not  resist  the  temptation  to  make  use  of  the 
passage. 

The  great  and  good  Dr.  Sparrow  visited  me  just 
before  the  capstone  was  placed  upon  Bunker  Hill 
monument,  which  was  at  that  time  carried  up  to  its 
full  height,  but  still  remained  open  at  the  top.  I 
enticed  the  doctor  to  climb  with  me  to  the  sum- 
mit, and  there  we  seated  ourselves,  with  a  wonderful 
expanse  of  sea  and  land  open  to  our  view.  As  we 
sat  there  something  unlocked  the  good  man's  Hps — 
it  may  have  been  the  beauty  of  the  prospect,  or  it 
may  have  been  the  feeling  that  he  was  so  high  up 
in  the  air  and  therefore  so  much  nearer  heaven; 
but  there  he  sat,  pouring  forth  a  flood  of  thought, 
rich  and  rare,  and  if  he  had  had  his  way,  might  have 
gone  on  in  the  same  strain  until  the  going  down  of 
the  sun.  He  probably  never  spoke  "from  a  higher 
point  of  view,"  and  those  who  were  accustomed  to 
hear  him  talk  on  the  ordinary  level  of  the  earth  can 
judge  what  his  talk  must  have  been  away  up  there 
in  the  clouds.  Bunker  Hill  will  always  be  asso- 
ciated in  my  mind  with  the  name  of  Dr.  Sparrow. 


RETURN   TO   BOSTON.  10/ 

He  was  a  strong  man,  and  has  left  his  impress  upon 
many  of  our  strongest  and  best  ministers,  who  were 
so  favored  as  to  enjoy  the  benefit  of  his  theological 
teachings.  He  could  put  as  much  material  into  a 
single  discourse  as  would  supply  the  wants  of  a 
dozen  ordinary  preachers  for  a  month.  He  had  all 
the  simplicity  of  a  child  and  never  seemed  to  know 
how  great  a  man  he  was. 


CHAPTER  X. 

FOUR  YEARS   IN   CONNECTICUT. 

After  four  years  of  mossy  quietude  as  an  assis- 
tant minister  in  Trinity  Church,  Boston,  I  began  to 
feel  that  it  would  be  well  to  look  for  some  more 
vigorous  employment,  and  accordingly  I  accepted  a 
call  to  Hartford.  There  I  found  myself  breathing 
an  ecclesiastical  atmosphere  in  some  respects  differ- 
ing from  both  Boston  and  Philadelphia.  As  might 
be  expected  in  the  land  of  steady  habits,  the  dio- 
cese of  Connecticut  has  been  conservative  from  the 
beginning;  it  runs  to  no  extremes,  leaning  neither 
toward  Geneva  or  Rome,  unmoved  by  the  doctrine 
of  the  one  or  the  blandishments  of  the  other.  The 
Low  Church  party  can  hardly  be  said  to  exist  in 
Connecticut,  and  there  is  no  large  diocese  in  the 
Church  where  there  is  to-day  a  less  amount  of  ram- 
pant and  excessive  ritualism.  It  has  no  extremes  of 
climate  and  is  content  with  such  fruits  as  can  be 
ripened  without  forcing.  Episcopacy  in  that  State 
is  in  a  great  degree  a  plant  of  native  growth  and  not 
an  exotic,  as  in  the  neighboring  diocese  of  Massa- 
chusetts. In  proportion  to  the  population,  the 
number  of  communicants  is  greater  than  in  any 
other  diocese,  and  they  are  distributed  somewhat 
evenly  over  the  State,  and  not  concentrated  in  one 
or  two  large  cities. 

xo8 


FOUR   YEARS   IN   CONNECTICUT.  IO9 

Bishop  Brownell,  who  presided  over  this  diocese 
for  the  long  space  of  forty-six  years  with  a  gentle- 
ness and  dignity  that  could  hardly  be  surpassed, 
was  born  and  bred  a  Presbyterian,  and  at  the  time 
of  his  marriage  held  the  office  of  Professor  of  Chem- 
istry in  Union  College.  His  wife  used  to  tell  me 
how  they  would  start  off  together  on  Sunday  morn- 
ings and  walk  on  until  they  reached  a  certain  corner, 
where  they  would  separate,  and  he  go  one  way  to 
the  Presbyterian  church,  while  she  wended  her 
solitary  walk  to  the  Episcopal.  It  was  not  long, 
however,  before  he  followed  in  her  footsteps,  as 
anyone  might  have  predicted  who  knew  Mrs.  Brow- 
nell— a  most  attractive  and  winning  woman,  and  as 
full  of  quaint  and  quiet  humor  as  she  was  of  good- 
ness, and  so  continued  to  the  very  end.  Aged 
people  would  be  more  in  demand  if  they  were  always 
as  considerate  and  cheerful  as  those  two  persons 
were.  In  the  time  of  a  high  "revival  of  religion" 
someone  informed  the  bishop  that  they  were  pray- 
ing very  hard  for  his  conversion.  "Well,"  he  replied 
in  his  gentle  way,  "the  prayers  of  good  Christians 
will  do  me  no  harm."  In  his  earlier  days  he  did  a 
great  deal  of  missionary  work  in  the  South  and 
West,  and  in  those  days  of  rough  traveling  must  have 
endured  no  little  hardship  and  fatigue.  But  later 
his  life  flowed  on  in  a  calm  and  placid  way,  never 
lashed  into  a  tempest,  and  never  dashing  rudely 
against  the  rocks.  His  kindliness  manifested  itself 
in  the  lines  of  his  countenance  and  the  tones  of  his 
voice,  and  as  he  sat  unmurmuringly  under  my 
preaching  for  several  years,  he  must  have  been  a 
singularly    patient    and    long-enduring    Christian. 


no  REMINISCENCES. 

Whatever  may  be  thought  of  the  doctrine  of  the 
Apostolic  Succession,  apostolic  grace  certainly  sur- 
vived in  him.  We  trust  that  a  kind  Providence 
will  send  us  a  few  more  such  moderate  bishops — 
they  may  be  needed  before  long. 

The  Episcopal  Church  in  Hartford  has  always  had 
to  contend  with  a  strong  array  of  ministers  outside 
of  our  fold;  or,  as  I  would  prefer  to  put  it,  has  had 
the  benefit  of  a  wholesome  stimulant,  growing  out 
of  their  great  attainments  and  influence.  The  Rev. 
Dr.  George  Burgess,  the  rector  of  Christ  Church 
and  afterward  Bishop  of  Maine,  was  competent  to 
hold  his  own  in  any  community.  In  the  range  of 
his  acquirements,  the  unfailing  accuracy  of  his 
memory,  the  fairness  and  discrimination  of  his  judg- 
ment, the  honesty  and  transparency  of  his  soul  and 
inflexible  devotion  to  his  high  calling,  he  stood  with- 
out a  superior  in  the  ranks  of  our  ministry.  In  the 
region  of  thought  he  had  his  limitations,  but  within 
those  boundaries  he  seemed  to  be  all-seeing  and  all- 
knowing — the  defect  of  his  mind  consisting  in  the 
gathering  in  of  too  much  material,  more  than  could 
be  used — more  than  could  profitably  be  used.  I 
once  expressed  my  wonder  at  the  enormous  amount 
of  matter  crowded  into  one  of  his  books,  and  he  said 
that  it  was  but  a  small  proportion  of  the  material  he 
had  collected. 

I  have  never  thought  that  he  did  himself  full  jus- 
tice in  the  pulpit.  In  the  last  sermon  that  I  heard  him 
preach  he  undertook  to  say  something  about  every 
person  mentioned  in  the  New  Testament  who  had 
any  personal  communication  with  Christ,  and  this  did 
not  leave  time  for  saying  much  that  was  worth  saying. 


FOUR   YEARS   IN   CONNECTICUT.  Ill 

He  was  always  at  work — visiting  his  parishioners 
three  or  four  times  a  year,  keeping  on  hand  forty  or 
fifty  sermons  ahead  of  the  demand,  reading  every- 
thing worth  reading  that  came  in  his  way,  exploring 
all  sorts  of  out-of-the-way  subjects,  publishing  a 
wonderful  book  about  the  old  New  England  Puri- 
tan life  which  took  everybody  by  surprise,  penetra- 
ting the  strange  ins  and  outs  of  Swedenborgianism, 
composing  exquisite  poems,  having  such  a  memory 
that  he  could  repeat  the  names  of  all  the  archbishops 
that  ever  lived  in  England,  and  examine  candidates 
in  all  the  minutiae  of  church  history  without  a  book, 
taking  no  out-door  exercise,  and  never  indulging  in 
any  form  of  recreation,  always  carrying  a  book  with 
him  when  he  traveled,  and  which  absorbed  him  in 
the  midst  of  the  grandest  scenery,  and  so  dying  early, 
dying  prematurely,  before  he  had  reached  his  fifty- 
seventh  year.  He  died  abroad  and  I  went  down  to 
Gardiner,  Me.,  to  preach  at  his  funeral.  No  other 
bishop  was  there,  and  no  crowd  of  clergy — for  want 
of  time  to  notify  them,  and  not  for  want  of  respect 
for  his  memory,  for  everybody  that  knew  him  loved 
him  and  everybody  revered  him.  At  last  he  rests 
from  his  labors,  unless  there  is  work  to  be  done  in 
Paradise,  in  which  case  he  may  be  as  busy  as  ever. 

The  Rev.  Dr.  Edward  A.  Washburn  was  one  of 
my  contemporaries  in  Hartford.  He  also  was  a  very 
remarkable  man.  A  graduate  of  Harvard,  and  a 
student  of  Andover  and  New  Haven,  he  was  from 
the  beginning  a  careful  reader  and  a  thorough 
scholar.  He  plunged  early  into  the  depths  of  phil- 
osophical study,  and  lived  for  the  most  part  among 
books,  and  seemed   to  have  none  of  the  ordinary 


112  REMINISCENCES. 

foibles  of  youth ;  while,  at  the  same  time,  he  was 
distinguished  as  an  athlete,  and,  with  his  temperate 
habits  and  abundant  bodily  exercise,  it  might  have 
been  expected  that  a  long  and  vigorous  career  would 
await  him.  His  temperament  was  sunny  and  cheer- 
ful, and  he  enjoyed  existence  to  the  full.  After  a 
short  ministry  among  the  Congregationalists  he  was 
induced  to  enter  the  Episcopal  Church,  which  he 
regarded  as  at  once  evangelical  and  catholic — posi- 
tive in  asserting  fundamental  truths  of  the  gospel 
and  yet  allowing  much  latitude  in  non-essentials — 
anchored  securely  to  the  old  creeds  and  the  Bible, 
but  with  sufficient  play  of  the  rope  to  allow  for  the 
rising  of  the  tide  and  the  occasional  surging  of  the 
elements. 

He  was  first  settled  in  St.  Paul's  Chuch,  Newbury- 
port,  a  parish  that  had  long  been  in  existence  and 
accustomed  to  move  quietly  in  the  grooves  worn  by 
the  fathers.  An  event  connected  with  his  ordination 
to  the  priesthood  occasioned  much  remark  at  the 
time.  The  bishop  and  clergy  had  assembled,  the 
church  was  opened,  and  the  bell  was  tolling,  when, 
to  the  amazement  of  all,  it  was  announced  that  the 
ordination  of  Mr.  Washburn  would  be  deferred. 
The  bishop  expressed  his  readiness  to  ordain  an- 
other young  candidate  who  was  present ;  he,  how- 
ever, declined  to  receive  orders  except  in  the 
company  of  his  friend ;  while  the  vestry  refused  to 
allow  the  use  of  the  church  for  a  public  service  if 
their  own  minister  was  to  be  excluded.  The  expla- 
nation of  the  extraordinary  proceeding  was  this:  on 
the  previous  Sunday  morning  the  news  came  of 
General  Jackson's  death,  and   Mr,  Washburn,   who 


FOUR   YEARS  IN   CONNECTICUT.  II3 

was  not  at  the  time  very  familiar  with  the  customs 
of  the  Church,  asked  one  of  his  parishioners  if  there 
was  any  Collect  in  the  Prayer  Book  that  might  be 
appropiately  used  in  recognition  of  the  ex-presi- 
dent's death.  He  referred  the  young  minister  to 
what  is  known  as  the  commendatory  prayer  in  the 
office  for  the  Visitation  of  the  Sick,  which  he 
accordingly  introduced  at  the  appropriate  time, 
without  the  slightest  suspicion  that  he  was  doing 
anything  out  of  the  way,  least  of  all  that  he  was 
laying  himself  open  to  the  charge  of  heresy.  The 
repetition  of  the  offense  in  these  days  might  not 
occasion  the  same  uncomfortable  comment.  As 
soon  as  the  matter  was  understood  and  Mr.  Wash- 
burn was  disposed  to  present  himself  again  to  the 
bishop,  priest's  orders  were  given  him,  and  I  never 
heard  of  his  being  charged  with  a  tendency  to  the 
Church  of  Rome  afterward. 

We  have  never  had  a  man  in  our  ranks  who,  in 
dealing  with  the  great  problems  of  thought  which 
pertain  to  our  time,  struck  nearer  the  heart  of 
things  than  he.  His  learning  was  so  profound  that 
he  could  at  a  glance  detect  any  attempt  to  revive 
exploded  errors  and  impose  them  upon  the  world 
in  the  garb  of  a  new  uniform;  and  whenever  he 
encountered  any  formidable  obstruction  vv^hich 
seemed  to  block  the  progress  of  Christian  truth, 
the  lightning  did  not  merely  play  about  the  surface, 
but  it  shivered  the  rock  to  atoms.  He  brought  to 
bear  upon  the  most  perplexing  questions  of  the  day 
the  full  power  of  a  well-informed  mind,  a  keen  phil- 
osophic insight,  and  a  fair  and  generous  judgment. 
He   said   all   that   the   argument   required,  and   left 


114  REMINISCENCES. 

unsaid  all  that  was  superfluous.  He  could  write 
with  rapidity  as  well  as  accuracy  under  very  unpro- 
pitious  circumstances,  and  his  familiar  talk  was  in 
many  cases  as  profound  and  clear-cut  as  his  most 
elaborate  writings.  He  had  his  resources  at  com- 
mand, and  one  who  ventured  rashly  to  cross 
weapons  with  him  was  likely  to  suffer  in  the  end. 
Not  that  he  needed  the  stimulus  of  an  opponent 
to  rouse  him ;  once  started  upon  a  line  of  thought 
that  interested  him,  he  could  talk  on  eloquently 
and  interminably,  without  any  rejoinder. 

A  more  fearless  preacher  never  stood  in  an 
American  pulpit.  It  was  not  that  kind  of  faithful 
preaching  which  consists  in  a  vehement  reiteration 
of  dogmas  already  known  to  be  acceptable  to  the 
congregation ;  if  he  felt  that  he  was  right,  it  did  not 
matter  whether  the  hearer  agreed  with  him  or  not. 
It  was  his  business  to  press  home  the  truth,  and  if 
the  people  would  not,  or  could  not  receive  it,  so 
much  the  worse  for  them.  He  was  a  discriminat- 
ing preacher,  and  did  not  content  himself  with  the 
repetition  of  time-honored  formulas,  without  regard 
to  the  fact  that  they  conveyed  no  distinct  meaning 
to  the  mind  of  the  hearer.  He  was  as  skillful  in 
handling  the  plainest  and  most  practical  subjects  as 
he  was  in  the  discussion  of  the  most  abstract  topics, 
and  when  he  expounded  the  Ten  Commandments, 
everybody  knew  what  he  meant.  He  was  not 
accustomed,  using  the  well-known  illustration  of  Dr. 
Hawks,  his  distinguished  predecessor  in  Calvary 
Church,  "to  fire  broadsides  into  Christianity,"  but 
took  careful  aim  at  the  mark,  as  he  once  did  with 
his  pistol  in  the  desert,  in  order  to  let   the  Arabs 


FOUR  YEARS   IN   CONNECTICUT.  II5 

know  what  they  might  expect  from  him  in  any 
special  emergency.  He  was  not  a  sensational 
preacher,  but  I  remember  to  have  heard  him,  after 
delivering  a  long  and  very  elaborate  discourse,  pro- 
duce a  profound  and  solemn  impression  by  repeat- 
ing at  the  close,  in  the  most  deliberate  manner,  the 
whole  of  the  Apostles'  Creed. 

His  translations  of  some  of  the  best  old  Latin 
hymns,  and  his  own  original  poetical  compositions, 
were  of  the  highest  order,  and  show  what  he  might 
have  done  if  he  had  devoted  himself  to  literary  pur- 
suits. I  recall  one  striking  line  in  his  poems,  and 
wish  that  I  had  room  for  more : 

"  For  the  seeker  of  the  Perfect, 
To  be  satisfied  is  pain." 

He  wrote  some  exquisite  humorous  verses,  for 
although  he  was  regarded  by  some  as  rather  a  stern 
and  imperious  person,  he  was  by  no  means  deficient 
in  that  element  of  humor  which  is  so  essential  to  a 
complete  and  well-rounded  intellect.  If  John  Cal- 
vin had  been  endowed  with  a  little  of  this  quality, 
it  would  have  been  a  great  relief  to  him  and  to  the 
world  after  him. 

My  eye  has  fallen  upon  a  tribute  to  his  memory 
so  much  greater  than  anything  it  is  in  my  power  to 
say,  that  I  cannot  refrain  from  copying  it  in  full: 

"  Go  !  great  Crusader,  now  thy  lance  is  lowered, 

Leave  us  to  bear  the  burden  and  thy  loss  ; 
Fold  now  thine  arms  upon  thy  trusty  5Word, 

Its  gleaming  hilt,  a  cross. 
Thine  the  Crusader's  temperament,  to  fight 

The  Paynim's  error,  where  his  tents  were  found. 


Il6  REMINISCENCES. 

Did  there  come  need  for  help  of  Christian  knight, 

Thy  white  cloak  swept  the  ground. 
Strong  were  the  notes  thy  clarion  rung  out, 

Fierce  was  the  onslaught  from  thy  vigorous  arm  ; 
And  idle  ease  and  comfortable  doubt 

Took  sensible  alarm. 
Yet  in  that  eloquence  a  sad  refrain, 

A  passionate  wit,  a  delicate  tender  thought — 
These  were  the  gems  that  sparkled  in  the  chain 

Thy  splendid  genius  wrought. 
Like  the  Crusader,  turning  toward  the  East 

Those  learned  eyes  (which  saw  what  others  sought), 
A  pilgrim  often  at  the  sacred  feast 

Where  knelt  Sir  Launcelot. 
They  should  have  placed  thee  in  that  ancient  church 

At  Cyprus,  where  the  Christian  knights  are  lain  ; 
Or  in  that  sunny  square  where  sparrows  perch 

On  bust  of  Charlemagne. 
Filled  with  their  names  on  later  sands  of  Time 

Mark  thee  as  worthy  to  be  grouped  with  them  ; 
No  nobler  hero  known  to  book  or  rhyme 

Marched  to  Jerusalem. 
For  thou  wert  of  that  company,  the  men 

Born  to  be  leaders,  knowing  not  doubt  or  fear, 
Who,  when  the  Angel  called,  or  now  or  then, 

Could  answer,  "  Here  !  " 
Great  dreams,  great  sorrows  were  thy  bread  and  wine  ; 

God  o'er  hot  deserts  led  thy  suffering  feet ; 
The  sepulcher  is  won,  the  victory  thine, 

Go  !  thy  old  comrades  greet !  " 

I  wish  now  to  say  a  few  words  in  memory  of  an- 
other man,  not  of  our  communion,  with  whom  I  had 
some  degree  of  intimacy  during  my  residence  in  Hart- 
ford. The  name  of  Horace  Bushnell  will  be  familiar 
to  the  world  long  after  most  of  us  are  forgotten.  No 
one  could  be  brought  into  contact  with  him  without 
feeling  that  he  was  in  the  presence  of  a  man  born 
to  lead  and  not  to  follow  the  thought  of  his  time. 


FOUR  YEARS   IN   CONNECTICUT.  II 7 

While  he  was  writing  his  great  work  on  The  Super- 
natural, I  used  to  visit  him  in  his  study  on  Monday 
mornings,  for  the  purpose  of  hearing  him  read  the 
chapters  he  had  written  during  the  previous  week, 
and  I  wish  that  I  had  noted  down  the  comments  he 
made  from  time  to  time  upon  his  work.  I  also  wish 
that  I  could  have  sketched  his  picture  as  he  sat 
there  in  his  chair,  rather  uneasily,  as  was  his  wont, 
with  his  flashing  dark  eye  and  luminous  face,  that 
responded  so  vividly  to  the  thoughts  which  were 
working  in  his  brain.  By  some  he  was  regarded  as 
a  subverter  of  old  ideas  and  even  as  a  reckless  inno- 
vator and  heretic,  but  he  was  really  very  tender  of 
all  received  dogma,  and  never  broke  away  from  the 
standards  except  under  the  force  of  moral  compul- 
sion. I  once  told  him  that  I  thought  of  preaching 
on  a  topic,  which,  forty  years  ago,  we  had  not 
learned  to  handle  as  intelligently  as  we  do  now,  and 
I  shall  never  forget  how  he  brought  down  his  hand 
and  said,  "I  would  not  preach  a  sermon  on  that 
subject  for  ten  thousand  dollars!" — not  that  he  was 
afraid  to  do  it,  but  he  thought  the  time  had  not 
come  for  its  thorough  ventilation,  and  if  he  once 
threw  open  the  doors  of  his  mind,  it  must  be  to  let 
the  wind  circulate  freely.  He  was  a  man  of  marvel- 
ous versatility.  Those  who  knew  him  only  by  his 
theological  writings  have  no  conception  of  the  range 
of  his  mind  and  the  various  works  of  which  he  was 
capable.  The  house  in  which  I  once  lived  was 
warmed  by  a  furnace  of  his  invention,  and  he  could 
lay  out  a  park  or  drain  a  city  much  better  than  an 
ordinary  expert.  He  was  as  much  at  home  in  talk- 
ing with  the  rough  guides  in  the  Adirondacks  as  he 


Il8  REMINISCENCES. 

was  in  discussing  metaphysics  with  learned  the- 
ologians in  council.  If  he  had  gone  into  civil  life 
he  would  have  taught  our  public  men  some  lessons 
in  political  economy  which  they  greatly  need  to 
know.  If  he  had  been  a  medical  man  he  would  have 
struck  at  the  roots  of  disease  and  discovered 
remedies  as  yet  unknown. 

Dr.  Bushnell  had  a  great  deal  of  individuality. 
The  man  impressed  you,  and  it  would  have  required 
an  effort  to  insult  him  or  trifle  with  him.  I  should 
never  have  thought  of  addressing  him  as  Horace, 
and  while  he  could  be  very  playful  when  he  felt 
like  it,  to  some  persons  he  seemed  rather  unap- 
proachable. There  was  nothing  in  his  manner  that 
seemed  to  claim  veneration,  as  is  sometimes  the  case 
with  "distinguished  divines" — no  majestic  sweep  of 
the  hand,  no  oratorical  proclamation  of  "wise  saws 
and  modern  instances,"  no  assumption  of  superiority 
in  any  form ;  but  you  felt  yourself  to  be  in  the 
presence  of  a  man,  a  real  man,  and  a  man  of  bulk — 
not  large  in  stature,  but  in  spirit. 

He  was  a  devout  believer — not  one  who  merely 
speculated  about  religion,  but  he  received  it  into  his 
heart  and  lived  accordingly.  He  had  all  the  spiritual 
fervor,  as  well  as  the  far-sightedness  of  a  prophet ; 
everything  pretaining  to  God  and  Christ  and  immor- 
tality glowed  under  his  touch.  It  was  a  live  coal 
that  he  laid  upon  the  altar.  However  he  might 
speculate  he  never  allowed  anything  to  come  as  a 
veil  between  him  and  his  Saviour;  he  saw  eye  to 
eye  and  knew  whom  he  believed. 

It  shows  how  "the  whirligig  of  time  brings  about 
its  revenges,"  and  is  also  a  striking  illustration  of 


FOUR  YEARS   IN   CONNECTICUT.  119 

the  Other  old  saying,  "the  heterodoxy  of  to-day  is 
the  orthodoxy  of  to-morrow,"  that  the  Hartford 
Theological  Seminary,  which  was  estabhshed  for 
the  purpose  of  combating  the  tendency  of  thought 
in  Dr.  Bushnell's  direction,  should  have  recently 
adopted  his  treatise  on  Christian  Nurture — originally 
rejected  by  the  Congregational  Board  of  Publica- 
tion— as  one  of  the  text-books  in  that  institution. 


CHAPTER  XL 

REMOVAL  TO   RHODE   ISLAND. 

Christ  Church,  Hartford,  seems  to  have  been 
one  of  the  cradles  in  which  bishops  were  rocked  in 
their  earlier  days.  Bishop  Philander  Chase  started 
from  this  church  in  his  pioneer  pilgrimage  to  the 
West;  Bishop  Wainwright  was  nurtured  there  for  a 
milder  work;  Bishop  George  Burgess  and  Bishop 
Nichols  were  both  rectors  of  this  parish.  Bishops 
Brownell,  George  W.  Doane,  Horatio  Potter,  and 
John  Williams  were  all  at  some  period  attendants 
at  Christ  Church  and  frequently  ofificiated  there, 
and  so  in  the  natural  order  of  things  my  turn  came 
in  1854. 

I  had  just  moved  into  a  new  house  and  was  stand- 
ing on  the  top  of  a  flight  of  steps,  assorting  my 
books  on  the  upper  shelf,  when  a  telegram  just 
received  by  Bishop  Brownell  was  handed  me, 
announcing  my  election  as  Bishop  of  Rhode  Island. 
I  was  somewhat  startled,  as  I  had  never  heard  that 
I  was  thought  of  for  the  place,  and  indeed  was  not 
aware  that  the  Convention  of  Rhode  Island  was  in 
session.  But  so  it  was,  and  after  a  parochial  ministry 
of  eighteen  years  I  found  myself  suddenly  called  to 
a  new  sphere,  and  the  discharge  of  new  offices,  in 
which  I  have  now  been  engaged  forty  years  longer. 
I  have  not  much  to  tell  in  the  way  of  incident  in  this 


REMOVAL  TO   RHODE   ISLAND.  121 

new  relation.  I  have  dwelt  in  a  quiet  habitation, 
and  have  had  no  such  romantic  experiences  as  our 
western  brethren  are  familiar  with ;  I  have  been 
called  to  take  no  long  journeys  through  waste  lands 
and  unexplored  forests,  and  sleep  night  after  night 
in  the  snow,  and  drive  alone  over  interminable 
prairies  in  midwinter  with  nothing  to  indicate  the 
way  but  the  slight  indentation  in  the  snow  made  by 
the  Indian  trail,  and  levy  upon  the  gambling  saloon 
for  the  purposes  of  worship,  and  take  up  a  collection 
in  poker  chips,  while  the  rifles,  by  special  request, 
are  deposited  in  the  outer  entry,  or  run  a  cathedral 
on  wheels  or  in  a  steamer — of  all  this  I  know  noth- 
ing. The  western  brethren  have  smiled  when  I 
spoke  of  the  interior  of  my  diocese,  intimating  that 
they  did  not  suppose  it  had  any  interior,  which  is  to 
some  extent  true,  as  so  large  a  portion  of  the  little 
State  is  underwater.  I  do  not  get  much  sympathy 
even  when  I  tell  them  that  I  have  to  go  off  a  long 
way  on  the  ocean  to  visit  some  of  the  churches,  and 
that  on  land,  on  account  of  the  water  obstructions, 
I  often  find  that  the  longest  way  round  is  the  only 
way  there. 

There  are  some  advantages  in  small  dioceses — I 
mean  small  territorially.  But  little  time  is  con- 
sumed in  traveling,  it  is  easy  to  become  familiar 
with  the  whole  region  and  know  what  are  its  neces- 
sities and  just  when  it  is  desirable  to  start  a  mis- 
sion, and  as  a  small  farm  may  be  more  thoroughly 
cultivated  than  a  large  territory  of  a  thousand 
acres,  so  a  small  diocese  may  be  spaded  over,  in- 
stead of  being  rudely  plowed,  and  made  to  yield  a 
larger  proportionate  harvest.     The  results  of  this 


122  REMINISCENCES. 

may  be  seen  in  Rhode  Island.  There  is  scarcely  a 
settlement  of  any  considerable  size  in  which  our 
Church  is  not  established,  and  there  are  but  one 
or  two  other  dioceses  where  the  proportion  of 
communicants  to  the  population  is  as  great  as 
it  is  there,  and  if  the  Roman  Catholics  were  not 
counted  in,  this  proportion  would  be  doubled.  As 
an  illustration  of  the  hold  which  they  have  obtained 
in  this  vicinity,  I  may  mention  that  the  city  of 
Woonsocket,  with  a  population  of  about  twenty- 
three  thousand  inhabitants,  contains  seventeen 
thousand  Roman  Catholics,  and  in  an  adjoining 
village,  where  for  years  we  had  undivided  posses- 
sion, there  being  no  other  place  of  worship  there,  a 
French  Roman  Catholic  Church  has  been  built, 
large  enough  to  swallow  up  two  or  three  such 
churches  as  ours.  There  is  one  further  advantage 
in  a  small,  compact  diocese.  The  clergy  are  able 
to  meet  each  other  freely,  for  the  discussion  of  con- 
troverted questions  and  the  clearing  up  of  mistakes 
and  prejudices,  and  also  for  the  occasional  discharge 
of  ecclesiastical  porcupine  quills,  which  it  may  be  a 
relief  to  the  porcupine  to  be  rid  of,  while  they  do 
no  special  damage  to  others.  The  result  of  this 
frequent  interchange  of  thoughts  and  crossing  of 
weapons  is  the  establishment  of  as  much  harmony 
as  can  be  expected  in  the  present  fallen  condition 
of  humanity,  and  the  acids  and  alkalies  mingle 
together  without  any  excessive  effervescence. 

During  my  residence  in  Rhode  Island  there  have 
been  more  than  two  hundred  and  forty  clergymen 
in  the  Diocese,  and  not  one  has  ever  left  us  to  join 
any   other   Protestant    denomination.     Three  have 


REMOVAL  TO    RHODE   ISLAND.  1 23 

taken  refuge  in  the  Church  of  Rome,  one  of  whom 
simply  went  back  to  his  first  love,  having  been  edu- 
cated by  the  Jesuits;  another  looked  over  the  fence 
longingly  into  the  Roman  pasture  before  he  was 
ordained  and  also  went  where  he  belonged,  and  the 
third  I  had  deposed  before  he  thought  of  seceding. 
In  the  forty  years'  administration  of  a  diocese  it 
would  be  strange  if  there  had  not  been  some  cranky 
deacons  and  presbyters  to  deal  with,  and  possibly 
here  and  there  a  troublesome  layman.  Entangle- 
ments will  sometimes  exist,  which  require  very  deli- 
cate handling  in  order  to  untwist  the  snarl  without 
breaking  too  many  threads.  But,  upon  the  whole, 
I  have  had  very  little  to  complain  of,  and  it  is  my 
general  impression  that  it  is  unwise  for  a  bishop  to 
interfere  with  what  is  going  on  in  the  diocese  any 
further  than  is  necessary  in  order  to  keep  the  peace 
and  protect  the  Church  from  the  intrusion  of  actual 
heresy  and  mischievous  practices. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE   RICHMOND   GENERAL   CONVENTION. 

The  House  of  Bishops  at  the  time  of  my  admis- 
sion was  composed  of  older  men  than  the  average  as 
it  now  exists.  Six  of  the  number  fulfilled  their 
fourscore  years,  the  eldest  being  nearly  ninety  years 
old  when  he  died,  and  the  youngest  fifty-three. 
Seventy-one  bishops  have  died  since  the  date  of  my 
consecration,  thirty-two  of  whom  were  my  juniors 
in  office,  and  thirty-eight  have  been  born  into  the 
world  since  I  was  admitted  to  the  priesthood.  I 
have  no  distinct  recollection  of  the  first  meeting  of 
the  House  of  Bishops  that  I  attended,  but  the  Con- 
vention of  1859,  h^^^  i"  Richmond,  is  strongly  im- 
pressed upon  my  memory.  The  train  from  Wash- 
ington reached  that  city  at  about  three  o'clock  in 
the  morning,  and  not  caring  at  that  unreasonable 
hour  to  disturb  the  good  people  to  whose  hos- 
pitality we  had  been  consigned,  I  strolled  about  the 
city  until  daylight  with  the  Rev.  Dr.  Littlejohn  for 
a  companion — now  the  distinguished  Bishop  of  Long 
Island  and  at  that  time  a  deputy  from  Connecticut, 
whose  genial  talk  made  it  all  very  pleasant,  although 
it  was  an  hour  when  people  do  not  usually  appear 
to  the  best  advantage. 

When  the  Convention  opened,  thirty-three 
bishops  responded  to   the    roll-call,   all   of   whom, 

124 


THE   RICHMOND   GENERAL  CONVENTION.      1 2$ 

with  the  exception  of  our  presiding  bishop  and  my- 
self, now  sleep  with  their  fathers.  Bishop  Meade 
of  Virginia  took  the  chair  as  the  senior,  and  the 
picture  of  the  bishops,  as  they  sat  there  in  council, 
is  still  very  distinct  and  vivid  in  my  recollection. 
Somehow  it  seems  as  if  they  were  not  formed  as 
much  after  the  same  pattern  as  they  are  to-day;  but 
this  may  be  because  there  were  so  few  of  them.  I 
will  try  to  give  a  sort  of  silhouette  likeness  of  some 
of  the  more  prominent  of  these  men. 

Our  presiding  officer.  Bishop  Meade,  was  in  some 
respects  a  man  of  the  Roman  type — I  hardly  need 
to  say,  not  in  his  ecclesiastical  sympathies;  but  he 
had  the  stern,  inflexible,  regal  type  which  we  asso- 
ciate with  Julius  Caesar.  His  demeanor  was  serious 
and  earnest ;  he  was  not  a  man  of  compromises — • 
always  rigid  and  always  just,  never  carried  away  by 
his  sympathies,  and  yet  always  kind  and  generous 
of  heart.  I  never  heard  of  his  venturing  upon  the 
humorous  but  once,  and  that  was  when  he  was  told 
that  an  edition  of  Webster's  Dictionary  had  just 
appeared,  which  contained  twenty-two  thousand 
new  words;  upon  hearing  which  he  replied,  "I  hope 

it  will  not  fall  into  the  hands  of  my  Brother ," 

who  was  somewhat  distinguished  for  his  "gift  of 
continuance,"  and  of  whom  the  venerable  bishop 
who  sat  next  to  me  in  the  House  used  to  whisper, 
as  he  saw  his  fluent  brother  rise  to  speak,  "Oh, 
dear!  the  plug  is  out  again!"  I  must,  however, 
acknowledge  that  I  have  seen  Bishop  Meade  unbend 
himself  gracefully  at  the  house  of  Dr.  J.  K.  Mitchell, 
in  Philadelphia,  whose  guests  we  were  at  a  meeting 
of  the  General  Convention,  and  where  he  was  very 


126  REMINISCENCES. 

intimate.  The  children  induced  him  one  evening  to 
be  blindfolded  and  try  to  walk  in  a  straight  line 
across  the  room  and  blow  out  a  candle  on  the 
opposite  side ;  it  was  really  refreshing  to  look  upon 
the  scene,  and  although  he  was  more  than  once 
unsuccessful,  his  failure  did  not  in  the  slightest 
degree  diminish  our  reverence  for  the  man. 

Among  other  trifling  peculiarities,  he  was  very 
antique  in  his  notions,  and  could  not  be  induced  to 
use  a  modern  four-pronged  silver  fork  at  his  meals, 
and  an  old-fashioned  two-pronged  steel  fork  had  to 
be  provided  for  him.  He  was  a  perfect  gentleman 
in  his  tone  and  breeding,  with  something  of  the 
feudal  flavor  about  him,  and  yet  he  would  go  about 
with  his  robes  under  his  arm,  done  up  in  a  bandanna 
silk  handkerchief,  and  write  his  official  letters  on  a 
scrap  of  brownish  paper,  sealing  them  with  his 
thumb  when  a  seal  was  required. 

Firm  as  a  rock  where  principle  was  concerned,  he 
could  neither  be  dragged  nor  enticed  from  his 
position.  I  doubt  whether  he  would  have  denied 
his  Master,  as  Peter  did,  and  if  he  had  been  impelled 
to  walk  upon  the  water  to  meet  his  Lord  his  faith 
would  not  have  been  likely  to  give  way. 

After  his  strength  began  to  fail  and  he  had  been 
prohibited  from  preaching  any  more,  it  was  hard  for 
him  to  keep  silence  when  he  found  himself  in  the 
chancel.  It  once  happened  that  he  was  present  on 
the  occasion  of  my  preaching  a  missionary  sermon 
in  Alexandria  before  the  students  of  the  seminary, 
and  at  the  close  he  said  that  he  would  "make  a  few 
additional  remarks" — which  I  have  no  doubt  he  felt 
to  be  much  needed — and  he  continued  to  talk  on  in 


THE   RICHMOND   GENERAL  CONVENTION.      12/ 

his  solemn,  impressive  way,  until  we  had  had  two 
tolerably  long  sermons  instead  of  one.  The  old  fire 
was  burning,  and  it  kept  on  burning  to  the  end, 
without  his  being  consumed.  He  now  rests  in  peace, 
although  I  do  not  believe  that  his  voice  is  silenced. 
He  was  one  of  the  grandest  men  we  have  ever  had 
in  our  Communion. 

Next  appears  the  patriarchal  face  of  Bishop  Hop- 
kins, with  his  majestic  locks  and  copious  white 
beard,  looking  as  if  he  might  have  stood  before  the 
altar  of  Abraham  and  with  him  there  offered  sacri- 
fice. Such  a  figure  as  his  could  never  have  been  in 
keeping  with  any  other  than  the  clerical  profession, 
and  yet  he  began  life  as  a  lawyer,  and  was  more 
versatile  than  any  other  of  his  tribe,  and  could  do  a 
great  many  things  which  no  other  bishop  could  do. 
He  could  design  a  church,  superintend  the  building, 
construct  the  ornamental  designs  with  his  own  hands, 
execute  the  more  elaborate  parts  of  the  painting, 
and  then  take  charge  of  the  organ,  compose,  direct, 
and  lead  the  music.  He  could  preach  on  any  con- 
ceivable subject  without  the  slightest  preparation, 
and  would  often  ask  the  rector  of  the  church,  as  he 
was  putting  on  his  robes,  what  he  would  like  to  have 
him  preach  about.  He  was  a  fluent  debater,  and 
never  lost  his  self-possession  or  seemed  to  know 
when  he  had  been  beaten.  He  wrote  voluminously 
and  on  a  great  variety  of  subjects.  His  "End  of 
Controversy  Controverted"  was  a  most  servicable 
book  to  put  into  the  hands  of  one  inclining  to  Rome, 
and  his  treatise  on  "The  Novelties  which  Disturb  our 
Peace"  was  vigorous  and  strong — more  so  than  the 
pamphlet  which  he  afterward  published  on  the  other 


128  REMINISCENCES. 

side.  His  defense  of  American  slavery  did  not 
appear  at  a  time  when  it  was  likely  to  be  very  popular 
at  the  North,  and  of  his  History  of  the  Church  i?t 
rhyme,  beginning  with  Adam  and  ending  with  Bishop 
White,  it  is  not  worth  while  to  speak.  Many  other 
works  came  from  his  pen,  showing  great  research  and 
having  considerable  value.  With  all  his  versatility 
and  variations  of  opinion,  he  was  thoroughly  sound 
and  honest  at  heart,  and  firmly  believed  everything 
that  he  said,  however  it  might  conflict  with  what  he 
had  said  before;  for  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  be 
disloyal  to  that  which,  at  the  time,  he  received  as  the 
truth.  His  opinion  might  change,  but  his  faith 
never  faltered,  and  we  doubt  not  that  he  now  shares 
with  the  saints  in  Paradise  the  blessings  and  felicities 
of  the  redeemed. 

Bishop  Mcllvaine  was  a  conspicuous  figure 
wherever  he  appeared.  His  resemblance  to  the 
pictures  of  Washington  was  very  striking  and  he 
once  told  me  that  he  had  been  often  spoken  to  on 
the  subject,  and  that  strangers  had  stopped  him  on 
the  street  to  inquire  if  he  had  any  of  the  Washing- 
ton blood  in  his  veins.  His  voice  was  peculiar,  and 
had  that  deep,  orotund,  and  somewhat  artificial 
quality  that  makes  ordinary  words  impressive  and 
solemn,  while  it  may  not  be  so  well  adapted  to 
trivial  conversation.  In  fact  there  was  nothing 
trivial  about  the  man ;  his  whole  demeanor  wore  an 
ofificial  aspect,  and  he  rarely,  if  ever,  appeared  to 
be  off  duty.  On  one  occasion,  when  the  bishops 
arrayed  themselves  in  a  sort  of  pyramidal  group  for 
the  purpose  of  being  photographed,  and  he  happened 
to  place  himself  at  the  summit  of  the  pyramid,  he 


THE   RICHMOND   GENERAL  CONVENTION.      1 29 

took  it  kindly  as  I  remarked  that  he  had  done  this 
with  the  consciousness  that  he  was  the  ornamental 
member  of  the  House,  as  he  really  was.  His  aspect 
was  that  of  a  man  who  could  not  help  being  con- 
scious of  his  own  superiority,  and  there  was  a 
dignified  reserve  in  his  demeanor  which  would  repel 
anything  like  undue  familiarity.  My  brother,  the 
Rev.  Dr.  Samuel  A.  Clark,  once  tried  him  a  little, 
by  asking  in  the  presence  of  his  brethen,  just  after 
his  return  from  England,  if  he  had  had  a  pleasant 
voyage,  and  if  this  was  his  first  trip  abroad.  The 
bishop's  familiarity  with  English  life  made  the 
inquiry  somewhat  impertinent. 

After  the  publication  of  his  famous  defense  of 
Episcopacy,  Dr.  Tyng  said  to  me  that  he  would 
never  again  vote  for  a  low  churchman  to  fill  a 
bishopric,  although  it  may  be  remembered  that  the 
good  doctor  himself  preached  a  very  conciliatory 
sermon  from  the  text,  "Sirs,  ye  are  brethren,"  just 
before  the  Pennsylvania  election. 

Perhaps  the  most  useful  part  of  Bishop  Mcllvaine's 
life  was  the  early  period  when  he  served  as  chaplain 
at  West  Point,  where,  by  his  powerful  appeals  and 
strong  personal  influence,  he  brought  so  many  young 
men  into  the  fold  of  Christ.  For  some  reason  the 
diocese  of  Ohio  did  not  make  very  great  advance 
under  his  episcopate,  and  a  man  of  weaker  mold 
and  more  devoted  to  the  routine  duties  of  the  office 
might  have  established  the  Church  in  Ohio  more 
firmly  than  he  did. 

His  published  writings  on  the  "Evidences  of 
Christianity,"  "The  Oxford  Divinity,"  "The  Holy 
Catholic  Church,"  "The  Sinner's  Justification,"  and 


130  REMINISCENCES. 

a  variety  of  other  topics,  were  widely  circulated  at 
the  time  of  their  appearance  and  attracted  much 
attention,  as  well  as  occasioning  no  slight  amount  of 
controversy.  They  are  much  of  the  same  type, 
somewhat  diffuse  in  style,  and  for  the  most  part  able 
expositions  of  familiar  truths,  rather  than  suggestive 
of  new  thoughts.  He  was  very  positive  in  all  his 
opinions  and  not  very  tolerant  of  those  who  differed 
from  him.  When  they  undertook  to  erect  stone 
altars  in  his  diocese,  he  insisted  upon  their  being 
"hewed  down  with  hammers,"  and  "the  novelties 
which  disturbed  our  peace,"  had  little  favor  in  Ohio. 
No  crosses  or  flowers  were  allowed  to  encumber  the 
Holy  Table,  and  on  one  occasion,  in  the  House  of 
Bishops,  he  expressed  his  dissatisfaction  at  hearing 
the  Te  Deum  chanted,  in  place  of  being  read.  How 
he  would  have  endured  all  the  innovations  which 
have,  since  his  time,  penetrated  almost  every  section 
of  the  Church — the  boy-choirs,  the  choral  services, 
the  colored  stoles,  the  profuse  floral  decorations,  to 
say  nothing  of  all  the  more  elaborate  display  of  our 
more  advanced  parishes,  it  is  not  easy  to  determine. 
Perhaps,  if  he  had  lived  as  long  as  some  of  the  rest 
of  us,  he  might  have  become  reconciled  to  many 
innovations  which  would  once  have  filled  him  with 
horror. 

Bishop  Whittingham  was  always  in  his  place,  tak- 
ing note  of  everything  done  or  said,  ready  to  spring 
to  his  feet,  whatever  might  be  the  subject  of  debate, 
and  appearing  to  know  all  about  it,  whatever  it 
might  be.  I  once  undertook  to  keep  tally  of  the 
number  of  speeches  made  by  him  in  a  single  fore- 
noon, but  had  to  give  it  up.     He  was  thoroughly 


THE   RICHMOND   GENERAL  CONVENTION.      I31 

posted  in  everything  pertaining  to  the  Church  in 
his  own  generation,  or  in  any  past  period  of  its  his- 
tory, desperately  in  earnest,  seeming  to  rely  upon 
Church  legislation  for  the  reform  of  all  the  evils  in 
society, — as  if  the  morals  of  the  world  could  be  regu- 
lated by  canons, — and  always  disposed  to  make 
thorough  work  in  dealing  with  all  the  infirmities  to 
which  humanity  is  heir.  Bishop  Whittingham  was 
not  a  man  of  one  idea;  he  had  a  multitude  of  ideas, 
but  they  all  revolved  around  one  common  center, 
and  were  viewed  from  one  standing-point — the 
ecclesiastical.  If  he  had  been  brought  up  from  the 
beginning  in  a  little  closer  contact  with  the  more 
frail  and  brittle  men  and  women  of  the  world  and 
looked  over  the  fence  to  see  what  was  going  on 
outside  of  the  Church,  if  he  had  not  clung  so  closely 
to  his  books  and  taken  a  little  wholesome  recreation, 
it  would  have  been  better  for  him  and  more  com- 
fortable for  others.  He  told  me  that  at  one  period 
of  his  life  he  worked  steadily  seventeen  hours  every 
day,  and  this  did  not  leave  much  time  for  any- 
thing else.  The  marvel  is  how  he  managed  to  live 
at  all. 

For  many  years  I  was  associated  with  him  as  a 
member  of  the  Standing  Committee  on  Constitu- 
tional Amendments,  and  I  can  testify  that  in  private 
conference  he  was  considerate,  brotherly,  reasonable, 
and  patient,  while  he  was  not  always  so  on  the  floor 
of  the  House.  To  say  that  he  was  a  very  learned 
man  would  be  an  exceedingly  moderate  way  of  put- 
ting the  matter,  and  to  say  that  he  was  endowed 
with  an  enthusiastic  temperament  would  be  super- 
fluous.    He  liked  to  have  his  own  way  when  he  felt 


132  REMINISCENCES. 

certain  that  he  was  right,  and  that  was  a  conviction 
which  did  not  often  fail  him. 

When  we  first  began  to  break  in  upon  the  old 
routine,  a  clergyman  in  Baltimore — now  one  of  the 
most  honored  and  eloquent  of  our  bishops — adver- 
tised that  noonday  services  would  be  held  in  his 
church  on  certain  days  in  Lent  for  the  benefit  of 
business  men,  and  that  those  services  would  not 
exceed  thirty  or  forty  minutes.  When  the  bishop 
read  this  startling  announcement  in  the  morning 
papers,  he  at  once  sent  for  the  clergyman  to  know 
what  it  all  meant.  He  was  informed  that  it  was 
intended  to  read  the  Litany  or  some  abbreviated 
form  of  the  Morning  Service — to  be  followed  with 
an  address  ten  or  twelve  minutes  long.  "I  forbid 
the  thing  entirely  I"  said  the  bishop;  "I  will  allow 
nothing  but  the  reading  of  the  entire  Morning 
Prayer  as  it  stands  in  the  book."  "Well,  then,"  was 
the  reply,  "I  must  abandon  the  whole  thing.  On 
these  terms  it  would  be  impossible  to  accomplish 
the  purpose  designed  by  this  short  service,  and  I 
will  give  it  up  altogether,  assigning  the  reason  for 
so  doing."  This  did  not  suit  the  bishop,  and  at 
last  he  compromised  matters,  on  the  condition  that 
the  clergyman  should  read  the  entire  Morning 
Prayer  in  private,  before  holding  his  attenuated 
public  service.  It  is  to  be  feared  the  devotional 
element  was  not  very  prominent  in  the  good  pastor's 
heart  when  the  hour  came  for  him  to  address  him- 
self to  his  solitary  matins. 

Of  Bishops  Eastburn,  Alonzo  Potter,  and  George 
Burgess  I  have  already  written,  and  there  are  others 
of  whom  I  would  like  to  say  something,  if  the  space 


THE   RICHMOND   GENERAL  CONVENTION.      1 33 

allowed.  I  can  see,  with  my  mind's  eye,  the  picture 
of  the  stout  and  sturdy  Bishop  Otey,  most  honest 
and  transparent  of  men,  with  a  muscular  intellect 
toned  down  by  a  most  tender  and  generous  heart; 
Bishop  Kemper,  equally  at  home  in  the  refined 
circles  of  St.  Peter's  and  St.  James',  Philadelphia, 
where  he  labored  faithfully  for  twenty  years,  and  in 
the  wild  Indian  settlements  of  the  far  West,  where 
he  laid  the  foundation  of  six  or  seven  dioceses, 
dying  at  last  as  the  Bishop  of  Wisconsin,  after 
traveling  about  as  missionary  bishop  twenty-four 
years  longer;  Bishop  Polk,  a  true  and  earnest 
believer  of  the  ancient  type,  of  whom  no  one,  what- 
ever may  be  thought  of  the  wisdom  of  his  course, 
can  hesitate  to  say  that  he  had  the  courage  of  his 
own  convictions,  and  died  as  a  martyr  to  what  he 
believed  to  be  true  and  right ;  Bishop  De  Lancey,  of 
whom  I  think  I  have  already  spoken,  an  old-fashioned 
churchman  of  the  Bishop  Hobart  school,  courteous 
and  attractive  in  his  demeanor,  an  accomplished 
scholar,  a  winning  and  interesting  preacher,  and  a 
true  man;  Bishop  Elliott,  father  of  another  bishop, 
whose  praise  is  in  all  the  churches,  a  genuine 
Southern  gentleman,  also  of  the  ancient  type,  his 
stately  form  and  impressive  face  giving  a  peculiar 
charm  to  the  words  he  uttered  and  the  truths  he 
enforced ;  Bishop  Johns,  the  saintly  and  gentle  Cal- 
vinist,  who  won  many  hearts  to  Christ  by  the  per- 
suasiveness of  his  appeals,  while  he  rarely  repelled 
any  seeker  after  truth  by  the  rigidity  of  his  doctrine  ; 
Bishop  Davis,  whose  presence  was  a  benediction, 
making  the  world — from  the  sight  of  which  he  was 
cut  off  by  the  visitation   of  God — always  brighter 


134  REMINISCENCES. 

and  better  by  his  beautiful  example  and  holy  influ- 
ence; Bishop  Atkinson,  a  man  always  to  be  trusted, 
of  calm  and  solid  judgment,  quiet  and  earnest  con- 
victions, endowed  with  a  legal  clearness  of  concep- 
tion and  a  straightforward  utterance  which  was 
almost  sure  to  carry  conviction  to  the  minds  of 
those  whom  he  addressed  ;  Bishop  Kip,  the  city-bred 
rector,  nursed  in  luxury,  who  gave  up  all  that  the 
world  had  to  offer  him  and  became  the  pioneer 
bishop  in  California,  laboring  patiently  there  for 
fort}'-  years  amid  many  trials  and  discouragements; 
Bishop  Henry  W.  Lee,  whom  I  knew  in  his  youth, 
and  followed  all  along  until  the  sun  reached  his 
meridian,  and  never  hearing  a  breath  to  his  dis- 
credit or  knowing  him  to  slight  a  duty.  I  received 
by  mail  a  few  touching  lines  dictated  by  him  just 
before  his  death,  to  which  I  replied  at  once,  but 
before  my  letter  reached  him  he  had  departed.  If 
there  ever  was  a  genuine  disciple  of  Christ,  he  was 
one.  Bishop  Alfred  Lee  was  just  as  good  and 
holy  a  man  as  he,  and  was  also  endowed  with 
singular  intellectual  gifts,  and  his  early  legal  training 
was  of  great  service  in  the  disentangling  of  difficult 
theological  problems,  and  however  he  might  be 
criticized,  it  was  not  an  easy  task  to  refute  his  argu- 
ments. There  remain  only  two  others  of  whom  I 
have  room  to  write — the  venerable  Bishop  Smith, 
whose  episcopate  exceeded  in  length  that  of  any 
other  American  bishop,  and  who,  if  he  had  lived 
nine  days  longer,  would  have  reached  his  ninetieth 
year,  and  Bishop  Horatio  Potter,  who  also  attained 
a  good  old  age,  after  a  useful  and  blameless  life. 
The  mention  of  these  two  names  reminds  me  of  a 


THE   RICHMOND   GENERAL  CONVENTION.      1 35 

noticeable  incident  that  occurred  on  the  occasion  of 
a  special  meeting  of  the  bishops  in  New  York,  when 
all  business  was  delayed  for  several  days  for  want  of 
a  quorum.  In  this  emergency  it  was  suggested  that 
if  by  any  process  the  presence  of  these  aged  men 
could  be  secured,  the  House  might  be  organized  and 
then  proceed  to  the  work  for  which  we  had 
assembled.  Accordingly  an  hour  was  fixed  for  the 
bishops  in  attendance  to  assemble  at  the  residence  of 
Bishop  Potter,  who  was  unable  to  leave  his  chamber, 
and  good  Bishop  Smith  was  brought  down  from  his 
house,  in  the  upper  part  of  the  city,  and  deposited 
in  the  lower  entry  of  Bishop  Potter's  residence. 
The  bishops  then  arranged  themselves  in  the  stair- 
way so  as  to  form  a  connecting  apostolic  link  be- 
tween the  two  venerable  prelates,  and  the  roll  was 
called.  A  majority  of  the  House  of  Bishops  answer- 
ing to  their  names,  it  was  declared  to  be  duly 
organized,  and  the  members,  who  were  capable  of  so 
doing,  adjourned  to  the  appointed  place  of  meeting, 
while  the  senior  bishop  was  carefully  taken  back  to 
his  house,  and  the  Bishop  of  New  York  left  to  enjoy 
the  quiet  and  privacy  of  his  chamber  undisturbed. 
As  it  turned  out,  the  meeting  resulted  in  nothing 
of  any  special  account,  and  no  one  was  inclined  to 
question  the  legality  or  propriety  of  its  proceedings. 

There  were  other  bishops  of  whom  kind  words 
might  be  said,  but  my  personal  knowledge  of  them 
was  slight,  and  in  these  reminiscences  it  is  my  inten- 
tion to  confine  myself  for  the  most  part  to  such 
matters  as  fell  under  my  own  observation. 

I  was  one  of  a  committee  of  three,  appointed  in 
the  Convention  of  1859,  ^^  suggest  d^  practical  sub- 


136  REMINISCENCES. 

ject  for  the  Pastoral  Letter,  the  House  having  failed 
to  agree  upon  either  of  the  letters  which  had  been 
presented.  We  labored  over  the  matter  diligently, 
but  could  not  decide  upon  any  one  topic  which  it 
would  be  expedient  to  bring  before  all  our  churches, 
certain  evils  being  rampant  in  some  regions  that 
were  altogether  unknown  in  other  quarters.  Lot- 
teries, card-playing,  dancing,  horse-racing,  theatrical 
performances  and  some  other  things  were  suggested  ; 
but  just  how  to  discriminate  in  dealing  with  these 
evils — if  they  were  evils  at  all — did  not  appear,  and 
to  proclaim  a  crusade  against  certain  customs  which 
exist  in  our  large  cities,  but  are  never  heard  of  in 
our  little  country  parishes,  did  not  seem  expedient. 
The  result  was  that  the  Church  was  blessed  with  no 
pastoral  that  year.  It  is  possible  that  a  gentle  sug- 
gestion of  mine  as  to  the  matter  of  slavery  may  have 
tended  to  produce  this  result. 

When  we  separated  at  the  close  of  this  pleasant 
convention  at  Richmond,  we  little  dreamed  that  a 
crisis  was  impending  during  which  our  Church  would 
be  temporarily  sundered,  and  at  our  next  gathering 
there  would  be  so  many  vacant  seats  in  the  House 
of  Bishops.  I  have  no  disposition  to  dwell  upon  that 
trying  season  at  present,  although  I  may  subse- 
quently have  something  to  say  about  it ;  but  the  irre- 
sistible tendency  to  union  in  our  ranks  was  shown 
in  the  fact  that,  when  the  crisis  had  passed,  without 
any  formal  action  on  the  part  of  the  General  Con- 
vention, and  even  without  any  formal  negotiations, 
those  who  had  left  us  came  back  quietly  and  took 
their  seats  as  if  nothing  had  happened.  There  was 
not  even  a  scar  to  show  where  the  cleavage  in  the 


THE   RICHMOND    GENERAL   CONVENTION.      1 3/ 

Church  had  occurred.  The  only  allusion  to  the  War 
that  I  have  ever  heard  in  the  House  of  Bishops  was 
made  by  good  Bishop  Lay,  at  that  time  Bishop  of 
Arkansas,  who  pleasantly  suggested  on  one  occasion 
that  there  was  a  knot  of  ''old  Confederates  off  there 
in  the  corner  that  ought  to  be  broken  up" — some 
four  or  five  of  the  Southern  bishops  happening  to 
be  conferring  together. 

I  find  it  hard  to  realize  that  a  whole  generation 
has  passed  away  since  that  gathering  in  Richmond. 
I  thought  at  that  time  that  the  larger  part  of  the 
bishops  were  aged  men,  who  had  about  filled  up 
their  term  of  years,  while  in  fact  there  were  only 
three  of  the  number  who  were  at  that  period  as  old 
as  I  am  to-day.  It  is  wisely  ordered  that  none  of 
us  should  live  very  long.  A  new  generation  is 
needed  to  take  up  the  work  where  the  old  genera- 
tion left  itc  But  for  the  change  of  actors  on  the 
stage  the  world  would  make  little  progress,  and  it 
ought  to  grow  wiser  as  it  advances.  What  we  call 
the  ancient  times  were  indeed  the  immature  youth- 
ful times ;  as  Lord  Bacon  puts  it :  ''Antiqiiitas  seculi^ 
juventus  mundi.  These  times  are  the  ancient  times, 
when  the  world  is  ancient,  and  not  those  which  we 
account  ancient  ordine  retrogrando,  by  a  computa- 
tion backward  from  ourselves." 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE   LATE   WAR. 

These  reminiscences  would  be  incomplete  if  I 
did  not  say  something  of  what  I  saw  and  heard  dur< 
ing  the  War,  that  followed  so  soon  after  the  pleasant 
Convention  at  Richmond.  My  personal  experi- 
ences of  that  period  are  all  of  which  I  intend  to 
speak,  and  they  are  connected  mainly  with  the 
Sanitary  Commission,  of  which  I  was  a  member, 
and  which  met  at  intervals  in  Washington  during 
the  entire  period  of  the  War.  It  consisted  of  ten 
or  twelve  members,  among  whom  were  three  dis- 
tinguished physicians,  Drs.  Van  Buren,  Agnew  and 
Newberry,  Professor  Wolcott  Gibbs  of  Harvard,  Mr. 
Horace  Binney,  Jr.,  the  well-known  Dr.  Samuel  G. 
Howe,  Professor  Bache,  Professor  Stille,  Mr.  George 
T.  Strong,  with  the  Rev.  Dr.  Bellows  of  New  York 
as  president,  and  Mr.  Frederick  Law  Olmstead  as 
secretary. 

It  was  the  most  gigantic  charity  the  world  ever 
knew,  the  cash  receipts  being  a  little  less  than  five 
millions  of  dollars,  the  estimated  value  of  the  sup- 
plies fifteen  millions,  and  the  expenditures  of  local 
branches  more  than  two  millions — in  all  about 
twenty-two  millions.  A  fair  was  held  in  its  aid  in 
New  York  and  another  in  Philadelphia,  each  of 
which  netted  about  a  million  of  dollars.  Spontane- 
ous contributions  of  all  descriptions  poured  in  from 

138 


THE   LATE  WAR.  139 

every  quarter,  and,  as  might  be  expected,  some  of 
the  articles  forwarded  were  not  of  much  practical 
use — gigantic  knit  stockings  that  might  have  fitted 
Goliath  very  well,  if  he  wore  stockings,  domestic 
preserves  of  various  sorts  and  different  degrees  of 
merit,  lint  beyond  measure,  haversacks  in  profusion, 
which  in  our  climate  proved  to  be  of  little  service, 
incomprehensible  garments,  which  it  would  be  hard 
to  assign  to  either  sex,  an  occasional  almanac  and 
city  directory  of  ancient  date,  a  few  volumes  of 
well-thumbed  sermons,  and  a  multitude  of  little 
contrivances  and  comforts,  with  a  tinge  of  pathos 
about  them,  and  all  indicating  the  kindness  and 
good  will  of  the  contributors. 

In  the  distribution  of  its  stores  and  in  the  services 
rendered  to  the  sick  and  wounded,  the  Commission 
made  no  distinction  between  friend  and  foe — a  press- 
ing need  was  all  the  appeal  required,  no  matter 
where  it  existed.  A  very  beautiful  and  impressive 
letter  was  once  read  to  the  Commission,  written 
by  General  Lee  of  the  Southern  army,  acknowledg- 
ing the  various  kind  offices  which  had  been  rendered 
to  the  men  under  his  command  in  the  hour  of  pain 
and  sorrow. 

There  is  not  much  to  tell  of  the  working  of  the 
Commission  which  is  not  already  familiar  to  the 
public.  The  meetings  in  Washington  were  always 
very  pleasant,  and  occasionally  something  would 
occur  to  give  a  little  variety  to  the  occasion.  A 
request  was  made  by  the  Massachusetts  branch,  that 
a  delegate  sent  by  them  might  be  allowed  to  sit  with 
the  Commission  and  report  its  proceedings.  It  was 
not  thought  expedient  to  deny  the  request,  when, 


140  REMINISCENCES. 

to  the  surprise  of  all,  an  accomplished  and  high-bred 
lady  from  Boston  appeared  with  her  credentials  and 
took  her  seat  with  the  Commission.  Of  course  there 
was  no  help  for  it,  and  still  further,  the  delegate  from 
Massachusetts  usually  accompanied  us  in  our  visits 
to  the  neighboring  camps,  undeterred  by  any  of  the 
disagreeable  things  that  might  be  encountered.  No 
woman  could  possibly  conduct  herself  with  greater 
propriety  and  consideration,  but  occasionally  matters 
would  come  forward  for  discussion  which  it  would 
be  unpleasant  to  handle  in  the  presence  of  a  lady, 
and  still  worse,  the  members  of  the  Commission 
who  had  been  accustomed  to  while  away  the  weary 
hours  by  the  solace  of  a  cigar  suddenly  found  them- 
selves cut  off  from  this  privilege.  In  order  to  meet 
the  double  emergency,  it  was  resolved  with  all  due 
solemnity,  in  the  presence  and  hearing  of  our  female 
friend,  that  whenever  the  Commission  went  into 
executive  session — whatever  that  might  mean — it 
should  be  understood  that  the  doors  were  to  be 
closed  against  visitors.  The  operation  of  this  rule, 
which  was  adopted  not  unfrequently,  relieved  the 
members  of  their  embarrassment,  but  I  am  bound 
to  say  in  all  truthfulness  that  the  "executive  session" 
sometimes  continued  long  after  the  delicate  matters 
under  discussion  had  been  disposed  of.  It  hardly 
needs  to  be  added  that  the  majority  of  the  Com- 
mission were  more  or  less  addicted  to  tobacco. 

During  my  stay  in  Washington  I  had  occasional 
opportunities  of  seeing  President  Lincoln  in  the 
White  House  and  elsewhere,  and  a  few  of  my 
reminiscences  of  the  man  may  be  of  some  interest. 
In  the  spring  of  1861   I  called  by  appointment  at 


THE   LATE   WAR.  I4I 

his  private  office  soon  after  breakfast,  and  found  him 
at  his  writing-desk  with  a  loose  dressing-gown  about 
him,  and  after  one  or  two  general  remarks  he  said : 
"I  can  hardly  tell  you  how  relieved  I  am  this  morn- 
ing. I  have  just  finished  my  message  to  Congress, 
and  now  that  is  off  my  mind."  I  replied  that  I  was 
sorry  he  had  called  this  extra  session  of  Congress, 
for  nobody  could  tell  what  mischief  they  might  do, 
and  I  wished  he  would  take  the  whole  responsibility 
into  his  own  hands,  for  I  was  sure  the  nation  would 
stand  by  him  if  he  did.  "I  have  called  this  Con- 
gress," he  said,  "because  I  must  have  money.  There 
is  Chase,"  referring  to  the  Secretary  of  the  Treasury ; 
"sometimes  he  calls  for  a  million  of  dollars  in  the 
course  of  twenty-four  hours,  and  I  can  assure  you 
that  it  is  not  an  easy  matter  to  raise  that  amount  in 
a  day."  I  replied  that  I  had  never  found  it  very 
easy.  He  then  continued,  "The  result  of  this  war  is 
a  question  of  resources.  That  side  will  win  in  the 
end  where  the  money  holds  out  longest;  but  if  the 
war  should  continue  until  it  has  cost  us  five  hundred 
■millions  of  dollars^'  dwelling  upon  this  sum  with 
much  deliberation,  as  if  it  were  the  largest  amount 
that  could  well  be  conceived  of,  "the  resources  of 
the  country  are  such  that  the  credit  of  the  Govern- 
ment will  be  better  than  it  was  at  the  close  of  the 
War  of  the  Revolution,  with  the  comparatively  small 
debt  that  existed  then."  Suppose  someone  had 
whispered  in  his  ear,  "This  war  will  go  on  until  it 
has  cost  the  nation  nearer  five  thousand  millions 
than  five  hundred,  and  after  it  is  all  over,  instead  of 
its  taking  half  a  peck  of  government  paper  to  buy 
a  hat,  the  credit  of  the  United  States  in  a  few  years 


142  REMINISCENCES. 

will  be  so  strong  that  its  bonds  at  two  or  three  per 
cent,  will  be  at  a  premium,"  what  would  have  been 
the  aspect  of  Mr.  Lincoln's  expressive  countenance? 
Some  time  after  this  I  called  upon  him  as  a 
member  of  the  Sanitary  Commission,  to  see  what 
could  be  done  for  the  exchange  of  prisoners.  He 
heard  me  very  patiently  and  then  said :  "I  feel  just 
as  you  do  about  this  matter.  I  don't  like  to  think 
of  our  men  suffering  in  the  Southern  prisons,  neither 
do  I  like  to  think  that  the  Southern  men  are  suffer- 
ing in  our  prisons;  but  you  don't  want  me  to 
recognize  the  Southern  Confederacy,  do  you?"  I 
said  of  course  not  at  present.  "Well,"  he  went  on, 
**I  can't  propose  an  exchange  of  prisoners  without 
recognizing  the  existence  of  the  Confederate  Govern- 
ment." "Why  is  this  necessary  any  more  than  it  is 
when  you  send  in  a  flag  of  truce?"  "I  never  sent  a 
flag  of  truce ;  the  Government  has  nothing  to  do  with 
that.  It  is  done  by  the  officers  of  the  army  on  their 
own  responsibility."  "If  this  is  so,  why  could  not 
the  matter  be  accomplished  in  another  way  ?  A  while 
ago  the  Southern  authorities  sent  back  fifty-seven  of 
the  sick  and  wounded  prisoners  in  their  hands,  whom 
of  course  they  were  glad  to  get  rid  of,  and  someone 
at  once  sent  back  the  same  number  of  men  whom 
we  held  in  confinement."  "That  was  my  idea."  "It 
was  a  very  good  idea;  now  why  cannot  that  thing 
be  followed  up,  until  the  board  is  cleared?  If  you 
send  a  hundred  or  five  hundred  of  their  men  to  the 
South,  they  will  be  certain  to  return  the  same 
number,  and  so  in  a  short  time  the  whole  matter  can 
be  managed  without  any  negotiation  at  all."  "I  will 
tell  you  why  it  can't  be  done  at  present ;  I  haven't 


THE   LATE   WAR.  1 43 

capital  enough  on  hand  to  discount."  This  was  his 
way  of  putting  things. 

On  a  great  occasion  in  Washington,  when  the 
foreign  ministers,  the  members  of  the  Cabinet,  and 
other  notable  persons  were  present,  I  said  to  Mr. 
Lincoln  that  it  would  gratify  the  curiosity  of  the 
bystanders  if  these  great  people  would  be  willing  to 
wear  a  label  on  their  back,  indicating  their  names 
and  titles,  as  Corsica  Boswell  did.  "I  do  not  think," 
he  replied,  "that  I  should  need  any  label — they 
would  know  me  by  my  height.  Here  is  Stanton," 
who  stood  by  his  side — a  rather  short,  thick-set 
figure;  "he  supposes  that  he  has  more  weight  of 
character  than  I  have,  but  I  stand  much  higher  in 
society  than  he  does." 

It  was  a  sad  day  for  all  of  us  when  Abraham 
Lincoln  was  taken  away;  if  he  had  any  frailty,  it 
was  in  excess  of  tenderness.  I  never  saw  him  show 
any  marks  of  irascibility  but  once,  and  that  was 
when  our  Commission  were  crowding  him  in  a  direc- 
tion he  did  not  fancy,  and  he  turned  and  said,  with 
some  little  asperity,  "It  looks  to  me  as  if  you  would 
like  to  run  this  machine." 

This  talk  about  the  labeling  suggests  a  little 
domestic  incident  connected  with  the  War,  which  I 
may  be  pardoned  for  mentioning.  One  of  my 
brothers,  the  Rev.  Dr.  George  H,  Clark,  who  wrote 
the  life  of  Cromwell,  was  the  rector  of  St.  John's 
Church,  Savannah,  at  the  breaking  out  of  the  War, 
and,  desiring  to  visit  England  for  a  few  months,  he 
availed  himself  of  a  blockade-runner,  and  having 
accomplished  his  purpose,  returned  by  the  way  of 
Canada,  intending  to  go  back  at  once  to  Savannah 


144  REMINISCENCES. 

For  more  reasons  than  one  he  found  this  to  be  im- 
practicable, but  meanwhile  he  had  left  his  little  boy, 
some  four  or  five  years  old,  in  charge  of  a  friend  in 
Savannah,  and  now  the  question  was,  how  to  recover 
possession  of  him.  By  some  negotiations  with  the 
authorities  on  both  sides,  an  arrangement  was  made 
by  which  he  was  to  be  forwarded  to  Fortress  Monroe, 
passing  from  hand  to  hand  with  a  label  attached  to 
his  clothes,  indicating  his  name  and  destination. 
Meanwhile  my  brother  took  up  his  abode  at  Fort- 
ress Monroe,  awaiting  the  arrival  of  his  son ;  but 
the  days  passed  by  without  his  appearing,  and  at 
last  the  flags  of  truce  were  suspended  and  all  inter- 
course between  the  two  sections  cut  off.  There  was 
nothing  to  do  but  wait  for  a  change  in  affairs,  and  at 
last  there  were  some  movements  on  the  water  indi- 
cating that  communication  had  been  opened,  and 
in  an  hour  or  two  a  small  boat  appeared,  and  as  it 
neared  the  shore  a  cry  was  heard,  ''There  is  papa!'' 
and  the  little  boy,  with  the  label  on  his  back,  had 
reached  his  destination  in  safety. 

In  the  beginning  of  the  War,  as  might  be  expected, 
there  was  very  little  economy  in  the  conduct  of 
affairs,  and  a  French  or  Russian  army  might  have  ? 
been  comfortably  sustained  by  the  food  that  was 
wasted  in  our  camps.  I  have  seen  barrels  of  good 
bread,  where  some  of  the  loaves  had  hardly  been 
broken,  and  other  excellent  material,  thrown  away 
as  garbage,  while  the  impositions  practised  by  those 
who  are  always  on  the  lookout  to  make  money,  what- 
ever happens,  were  enormous.  A  complaint  was 
once  made  of  the  tea  served  in  certain  hospitals, 
that  turned  the  cups  black  and  was  nauseous  to  the 


THE   LATE   WAR.  145 

patients,  and  a  package  of  this  tea  was  sent  to  the 
Sanitary  Commission  for  inspection,  when  it  was 
found  upon  examination  that  there  was  not  a  leaf  of 
tea  in  the  compound.  It  seemed  also  as  if  all  the 
worn  out,  rickety  horses  in  the  land  had  been  sent 
to  Washington  for  the  use  of  the  Government. 
One  of  these  animals  was  put  at  my  disposal,  and 
the  first  time  I  had  occasion  to  use  him  I  found  that 
he  could  hardly  move  without  stumbling,  and,  after 
trying  him  in  every  other  pace,  I  thought  that  if  I 
could  get  him  started  on  a  full  gallop  he  might  not 
have  time  to  tumble  down ;  but  in  a  minute  or 
two  we  parted  company,  and  I  went  over  his  head 
into  the  road,  somewhat  to  my  discomfiture  and 
mortification. 

All  sorts  of  inventions  and  contrivances  were  sub- 
mitted to  the  attention  of  the  authorities  in  Wash- 
ington. The  grounds  of  the  War  Department  were 
filled  with  tents  of  every  conceivable  design;  all 
kinds  of  novel  cooking  apparatus  were  offered  for 
trial,  and  the  more  elaborate  they  were  the  more 
certain  was  the  return  to  the  old  simple  way  of  doing 
things.  I  was  made  the  bearer  of  the  small  model 
of  a  gun,  to  be  used  on  shipboard,  so  constructed 
that  it  would  take  care  of  itself  and  do  almost  every- 
thing automatically,  but  I  never  heard  of  its  being 
used.  I  was  once  present  at  the  trial  of  a  triple 
shell,  which,  when  discharged  from  the  mortar,  was 
intended,  after  the  first  explosion,  to  go  on  a  little 
further  and  then  explode  again,  and  after  that 
explode  a  third  time,  it  being  constructed  on  the 
principle  of  a  Chinese  carved  ivory  ball — of  three 
separate   shells    enclosed.     It   fulfilled    its   promise 


146  REMINISCENCES. 

tolerable  well,  but  as  it  was  a  very  costly  thing  to 
make,  and  of  not  the  slightest  use  after  it  was 
made,  nothing  more  was  ever  heard  of  it. 

An  ingenious  townsman  of  mine  took  it  into  his 
head  that  a  great  deal  could  be  accomplished  by 
a  fire-balloon  of  his  invention,  and  means  were  fur- 
nished him  at  Washington  to  test  his  experiment. 
Accordingly  he  selected  a  large  vacant  hall  and  set 
a  score  or  two  of  women  to  work  on  his  gigantic 
balloon,  and  then  took  it  out,  accompanied  by  a  few 
friends,  into  a  retired  place  in  the  country,  to  test 
the  machine.  The  inventor  had  relied  upon  a 
multitude  of  wicks  in  an  enormous  kerosene  lamp 
to  fire  and  raise  the  monster,  but  with  all  that  he 
could  do  it  was  impossible  to  induce  the  concern 
even  to  stand  upright,  much  less  to  rise  in  the  air, 
and  of  course  that  was  the  end  of  it.  He  was,  how- 
ever, one  of  those  men  who  are  never  discouraged, 
and  whose  inventive  powers  never  fail,  and  his  next 
contrivance  was  a  plan  for  arming  the  soldiers  with 
metallic  mirrors,  by  the  concentration  of  which 
upon  one  spot,  provided  the  sun  was  in  a  favorable 
position  and  the  enemy  were  willing  to  let  them 
alone  while  the  mirrors  were  adjusted,  the  most  dis- 
astrous results  might  be  obtained.  There  was  never 
any  appropriation  by  the  Government  for  testing 
this  scheme. 

During  a  later  stage  of  the  War,  vessels  suddenly 
appeared  in  Narragansett  Bay  loaded  with  more 
than  two  thousand  sick  and  wounded  and  invalided 
men,  with  their  attendants,  for  whom  provision  had 
to  be  made  on  shore  at  short  notice,  and  a  site  was 
at  once  selected  for  their  occupation  on  the  island 


THE   LATE   WAR.  147 

of  Rhode  Island,  a  few  miles  north  of  Newport, 
where  a  house  had  been  erected  some  time  before 
for  the  accommodation  of  summer  visitors.  It  was 
an  attractive  place,  fronting  on  the  broad  expanse  of 
the  bay,  and  here  in  a  short  time  as  if  by  magic  a 
village  sprung  into  existence,  with  its  long  wooden 
shanties  and  underground  water  pipes  and  post-office 
and  express  office  and  church  and  library,  and  every- 
thing else  that  is  needed  for  comfort  and  convenience 
in  a  new  settlement.  All  at  once  this  retired  spot 
became  a  center  of  life  and  animation — the  sick  and 
wounded  had  for  the  most  part  rallied  sufficiently 
to  allow  them  to  stroll  about  the  grounds  and  amuse 
themselves,  or  go  off  fishing  in  the  little  boats  and 
go  to  church  on  Sundays,  and  listen  to  the  music  of 
the  band,  so  that  for  the  time  being  it  could  truly 
be  said : 

"  Grim-visaged  war  hath  smoothed  its  wrinkled  front." 

To-day  there  is  not  a  vestige  to  show  that  human 
beings  were  ever  seen  there — even  the  old  hotel  is 
wiped  out  of  existence,  and  silence  reigns,  undis- 
turbed by  nothing  but  the  cry  of  the  fish-hawk  and 
the  rumble  of  waves  on  the  shore. 

As  a  member  of  the  Sanitary  Commission  I  had 
a  kind  of  oversight  of  the  place,  and  everything  was 
done  to  make  things  cheerful  to  the  guests  who  had 
come  upon  us  so  unexpectedly.  Arrangements 
were  made  to  furnish  the  whole  crowd  with  a  sump- 
tuous dinner — I  have  forgotten  whether  it  was  on 
Christmas  day  or  Thanksgiving — and  innumerable 
Rhode  Island  turkeys  were  obliged  to  sacrifice 
themselves  to  meet  the  emergency,  and  everything 


148  REMINISCENCES. 

usually  associated  with  the  consumption  of  the 
American  bird  was  furnished  without  stint.  I  offici- 
ated in  their  chapel  as  often  as  I  could,  and  printed 
a  short  collection  of  hymns  for  general  use. 

Among  the  inmates  of  the  hospital  there  were  a 
number  of  Confederate  prisoners,  although  there 
was  nothing  to  distinguish  them  from  the  rest  of 
the  inmates ;  they  went  about  with  the  same  freedom, 
and  off  on  the  bay  to  fish  if  they  chose,  but  of 
course  they  were  anxious  to  go  back  to  their  own 
homes,  and  asked  me  one  day  whether  I  could  not 
do  something  to  bring  this  about.  I  told  them  that 
I  was  going  to  Washington  in  a  few  days  and  would 
attend  to  the  matter.  I  accordingly  waited  upon 
the  authorities  in  Washington,  and,  having  laid  the 
case  before  them,  I  was  told  that  they  were  anxious 
to  find  as  many  prisoners  as  they  could  for  the  pur- 
pose of  exchange,  but  did  not  know  that  there  were 
any  in  Rhode  Island,  and  before  I  left  the  office  I  had 
the  satisfaction  of  hearing  the  order  given  by  tele- 
graph for  the  immediate  transportation  of  those  men 
to  headquarters,  and  when  I  returned  they  had  all 
vanished.  Before  leaving  they  published  an  article 
in  our  local  papers,  written  by  an  accomplished 
actor  from  New  Orleans,  expressing  their  grati- 
tude for  the  kindness  with  which  they  had  been 
treated. 

I  cannot  resist  the  temptation  to  record  one  little 
incident,  which  had  its  humorous  as  well  as  its 
pathetic  side.  I  was  looking  one  day  upon  the  little 
cemetery  where  the  bodies  of  those  who  had  died 
were  buried,  and  I  observed  that  a  certain  number 
of  the  graves  were  adorned  with  three  large  quahog 


THE   LATE   WAR.  149 

shells,  gathered  on  the  neighboring  shore,  while  the 
other  graves  were  ornamented  with  only  one  shell. 
I  asked  the  veteran  who  had  charge  of  the  place 
what  this  meant,  and  he  replied,  "Them  graves  with 
only  one  shell  are  the  Confederates,"  and  I  after- 
ward found  that  he  supposed  himself  to  have  had 
some  special  grievance  and  relieved  his  mind  by 
making  this  somewhat  invidious  distinction. 

The  War  is  over,  the  old  issues  are  dead,  and  a 
new  era  awaits  us.  It  has  ended  with  no  imputation 
of  cowardice  or  insincerity  on  either  side — ended,  as 
President  Lincoln  said  it  would,  by  the  prepon- 
derance of  resources.  The  honor  of  the  nation  is 
undisturbed.  The  War  was  inevitable,  sooner  or 
later,  and  we  may  all  be  thankful  that  the  storm  has 
spent  itself  and  sunshine  has  returned. 

I  once  asked  General  Sherman  if  he  had  ever  met 
with  Bishop  Polk,  and  in  reply  he  said  that  he  never 
saw  him  but  once,  and  then  proceeded  to  give  the 
story  of  his  death,  substantially  as  it  appears  in  the 
life  of  the  bishop,  recently  published  by  his  son. 
"While  the  hostile  camps  were  quite  near  each 
other,"  he  said,  "and  we  were  taking  observations 
of  the  movements  of  the  forces,  I  saw  three  men 
standing  together  on  an  eminence,  and  I  told  the 
gunner  by  my  side  to  send  a  shot  into  the  midst  of 
the  group.  As  soon  as  the  ball  struck  the  ground, 
two  of  the  persons  retired  from  the  scene,  while 
one  man  remained  quietly  standing  in  his  place.  I 
then  ordered  another  shot  to  be  fired,  and  he  fell. 
In  the  afternoon  I  learned  from  the  telegraphic 
signals — 'Send  coffin  for  General  Polk's  body' — 
whom  it  was  that  I  had  killed." 


150  REMINISCENCES. 

It  would  seem  as  if  the  time  ought  to  have  arrived 
when  every  conceivable  issue  that  could  arise  be- 
tween differing  nations,  or  differing  sections  of  the 
same  nation,  might  be  settled  by  some  other  process 
than  the  rude  hand  of  war.  In  a  war  it  is  the 
strongest  that  win,  and  might  is  not  right.  A  tor- 
nado may  clear  the  atmosphere,  but  it  is  done  at  a 
terrible  cost. 

It  is  a  comfort  to  know  that  one  great  cause  of 
strife  will  trouble  us  no  more,  and  yet  the  days  of 
storm  may  not  have  ended.  Dark  clouds  still  linger 
in  the  horizon,  and  no  one  can  tell  how  soon  they 
will  discharge  their  fiery  bolts.  The  questions  at 
issue  to-day  concern  the  great  multitude,  who  will 
control  legislation  as  soon  as  they  learn  how  to 
exercise  their  power,  and  who  can  tell  what  may  be 
the  result? 

It  is  our  boast  to-day  that  we  are  the  richest 
country  on  the  face  of  the  earth,  and  yet  at  periodi- 
cal intervals  there  are  terrible  financial  crises,  which 
arrest  the  processes  of  trade,  stop  the  wheels  of  our 
factories,  reduce  the  millions  of  workingmen  to  want, 
destroy  the  value  of  investments,  rob  the  farmer  of 
his  markets,  ruin  multitudes  of  helpless  widows  and 
orphans,  while,  at  the  same  time,  the  earth  continues 
to  yield  abundant  harvests  and  the  warehouses  are 
glutted  with  products  for  which  there  is  no  sale.  All 
forms  of  excess  are  followed  by  a  correspondent 
reaction,  and  that  is  the  trouble  now  in  the  finan- 
cial world.  The  nation  is  not  rich  because  it  con- 
tains a  handful  of  very  rich  men.  According  to  the 
most  reliable  estimates,  "the  average  annual  income 
of  the  richest  hundred  Americans  cannot  be  less  than 


THE   LATE  WAR.  I5I 

$1,200,000,  and  probably  exceeds  $1,500,000.  It 
may  safely  be  estimated  that  two  hundred  thou- 
sand persons  control  seventy  per  cent,  of  the 
national  wealth.  That  is,  three-tenths  of  one  per 
cent,  of  the  population  control  seventy  per  cent  of 
the  property."  Is  this  a  desirable  condition  of 
things?  Does  it  accord  with  the  teachings  of 
Christ?  Is  it  what  might  have  been  expected  as 
the  result  of  those  teachings? 

"In  New  York  city,  where,  according  to  the  New 
York  Tribune,  there  are  1103  millionaires,  worth 
from  one  to  one  hundred  and  fifty  millions  each, 
more  than  two-thirds  of  the  population  live  in  tene- 
ment houses."  If,  in  these  "piping  times  of  peace," 
things  continued  to  drift  as  they  are  now  drifting 
for  another  twenty-five  years,  when  the  millions  will 
have  become  billions,  the  mountains  rising  all  the 
time  higher  and  higher,  while  the  dead-level  below 
remains  immovable  and  perhaps  sinking,  instead  of 
rising,  what  must  we  expect?  The  reign  of  anarchy 
means  a  reign  of  ruin,  and  it  can  be  averted  if 
Christians,  or  if  all  who  profess  and  call  themselves 
Christians,  will  obey  the  precepts  and  follow  the 
example  of  their  Master.  Absolute  social  equality 
is  a  dream  that  has  never  been  realized,  and  never 
can  be  realized  and  never  ought  to  be,  but  the 
enormous  inequalities  in  the  temporal  condition  of 
God's  children  are  a  libel  upon  Christianity.  Those 
inequalities  were  never  so  stupendous  as  they  are 
now.  "The  wealth  of  Croesus  was  estimated  at  only 
$8,000,000,  while  there  are  seventy  American  estates 
which  average  $35,000,000  each.  The  nabobs  of 
the  later  Roman  republic  became  famous  for  their 


152  REMINISCENCES. 

immense  fortunes,  but  the  entire  possessions  of  the 
richest  were  not  equal  to  the  annual  income  of  at 
least  one  American." 

If  it  is  true  that  things  alter  for  the  worse  inevi- 
tably, unless  they  are  altered  for  the  better  de- 
signedly what  must  we  look  forward  to  in  the 
future  if  we  sit  down  inertly  and  just  let  things 
slide? 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE   FIRST   PAN-ANGLICAN   CONFERENCE. 

Twenty-seven  years  have  passed  since  the  first 
Pan-Anglican  Conference  was  held  in  Lambeth 
Palace,  and  very  few  of  the  bishops  who  assembled 
there  are  now  living.  Some  little  time  before  the 
meeting  was  held,  I  was  standing  with  the  arch- 
bishop on  the  steps  of  the  palace,  and  as  an  elderly 
man  in  episcopal  attire  approached,  he  said  with  a 
smile,  "Here  comes  an  Australian  bishop,  who  lives 
nearly  opposite  to  you,"  and  on  my  introduction  to 
him  I  remarked  that  we  were  "ordinarily  accustomed 
to  stand  with  our  heels  opposed  to  each  other." 
Although  the  results  which  attended  this  gathering 
of  representative  men  from  all  quarters  of  the  globe 
were  not  very  striking,  many  pleasant  and  life-long 
friendships  were  formed,  and  upon  the  whole  it  may 
have  been  as  profitable  as  some  other  Church 
councils  where  a  great  deal  of  ecclesiastical  business 
was  done.  I  had  the  honor  of  being  the  guest  of 
Archbishop  Longley  during  the  session,  and  it  was 
a  great  privilege  to  be  brought  into  such  pleasant 
relations  with  a  man  of  his  lovely  and  attractive  quali- 
ties. Most  refined  and  venerable  in  appearance, 
and  full  of  dignity  and  grace,  he  had  the  look  of  an 
archbishop  with  no  air  of  pretension  and  nothing 
in  his  manner  or  speech  that  indicated  any  conscious- 

^53 


154  REMINISCENCES. 

ness  of  the  high  dignity  bestowed  upon  him. 
Although  he  was  quite  alone  and  his  daughter  was 
the  only  one  left  to  dwell  with  him,  it  was  a  cheerful 
household  and  the  rooms  were  filled  with  pleasant 
things — pictures  and  books  and  domestic  games, 
such  as  are  not  ordinarily  associated  in  our  minds 
with  an  ecclesiastical  domicile.  One  day  I  took  a 
copy  of  Trollope's  "Barchester  Towers,"  which,  with 
its  vivid  description  of  Mrs.  Proudy  and  her  poor 
henpecked  Episcopal  husband,  seemed  to  be  rather 
an  odd  thing  to  find  in  such  a  place,  and  I  asked 
the  archbishop's  daughter  if  they  really  read  such 
books  as  that  in  ecclesiastical  circles,  and  she  said, 
quite  earnestly,  "We  devour  them."  I  ventured 
one  day  to  suggest  to  the  archbishop  that,  if  he 
would  come  over  to  America,  he  would  find  that  we 
were  in  the  same  condition  with  Sydney  Smith,  who 
once  said  that  "he  had  outgrown  all  his  early  super- 
stitions except  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury."  It 
was  very  delightful  to  wander  about  Lambeth  Palace 
under  his  guidance,  and  I  well  recall  the  expression 
of  his  face  as  he  said,  while  we  were  looking  at  the 
portraits  of  the  old  archbishops  in  the  armory  room, 
"You  will  observe  that  there  is  room  left  for  only 
one  more  picture  on  these  walls." 

Nothing  could  be  more  simple  than  the  opening 
service  of  the  Pan-Anglican  in  the  ancient  chapel  of 
Lambeth.  It  consisted  simply  of  the  office  of  the 
Holy  Communion  and  the  sermon.  The  Arch- 
bishop of  Canterbury,  out  of  respect  to  the  Ameri- 
can branch  of  the  Church,  had  invited  Bishop  Hop- 
kins, at  that  time  our  presiding  bishop,  to  preach 
the  opening  sermon,  and  he  accepted  the  invitation ; 


THE   FIRST   PAN-ANGLICAN   CONFERENCE.        1 55 

but  fearing  that  when  the  time  arrived  he  might  not 
find  himself  strong  enough  to  discharge  the  duty, 
he  asked  the  Bishop  of  Illinois  to  be  ready  for  the 
emergency,  and,  if  necessary,  take  his  place.  At 
the  opening  of  the  Conference,  however,  Bishop 
Hopkins  found  that  he  was  in  sufficiently  good  con- 
dition to  fulfil  his  appointment,  but  Bishop  White- 
house,  having  prepared  himself  for  the  occasion,  did 
not  think  it  expedient  to  retire  from  the  field.  The 
text  selected  by  the  preacher  is  to  be  found  in  the 
Epistle  to  the  Colossians,  chapter  first,  at  the  twenty- 
fourth  verse,  "Who  now  rejoice  in  my  sufferings  for, 
you,  and  fill  up  that  which  is  behind  of  the  afflic- 
tions of  Christ  in  my  flesh  for  His  body's  sake,  which 
is  the  Church,"  and  the  substance  of  the  discourse 
was  to  the  effect  that  it  is  the  special  province  of 
the  Episcopate  to  fill  up  that  which  remains  of  the 
sufferings  of  Christ.  No  action  was  taken  in  regard 
to  the  publication  of  the  sermon,  and  the  reason  for 
this  omission  is  given  in  the  life  of  Archbishop  Tait, 
recently  published,  and  is  also  indicated  in  Bishop 
Wilberforce's  diary. 

The  meeting  of  the  Conference  originated  with 
the  Colonial  bishops,  and  not  with  those  resident 
in  Great  Britain,  and  the  Archbishop  of  York,  with 
the  bishops  of  the  Northern  Province,  declined  to 
attend.  One  of  the  objects  which  the  Colonial 
bishops  wished  to  accomplish  by  this  assemblage 
was  to  secure  the  approval  of  the  representatives  of 
every  branch  of  the  Anglican  Communion  to  the 
action  of  Bishop  Gray,  the  MetropoHtan  of  Southern 
Africa,  in  his  condemnation  and  deposition  of  Bishop 
Colenso;   but    inasmuch  as  the  condemned   bishop 


156  REMINISCENCES. 

continued  to  retain  his  office  with  its  emoluments, 
under  the  authority  of  the   State,  any  interference 
on  the  part  of  the  English  bishops  would  of  neces- 
sity  involve  many   delicate  questions    incident  to 
their  own   tenure   of  office,  and  so,  not  because  of 
any  special  sympathy  with  Bishop  Colenso,  but  as  a 
matter  of  general  policy,  it  was  not  thought  desir- 
able to  interfere  with  the  matter  at  all.     Accordingly 
a  programme  was  prepared  and  printed,  assigning  a 
special  subject  for  each  portion  of  the  few  days  that 
the  Conference   was   to  be  in   session,  hoping  that 
this  might  prevent  the  introduction  of  the  Colenso 
business   altogether.     Of   course    there    followed    a 
great  deal  of  talking  against  time,  and,  among  other 
things,  a  long  and  dreary  discussion  of  the  question 
whether  the  first   six  General  Councils  should  be 
declared  to  be  of  authority,  or  only  the  first  four, 
the  tedious  talk  being  interrupted  for  a  moment  by 
an  emphatic  cry  from  the  irrepressible  Bishop  East- 
burn,  "Who  really  cares  anything  about  those  old 
councils?" — and  so  it  went  on  until  the  contested 
question  was  disposed  of  by  the  decision   that  the 
^'undisputed  General  Councils"  should  be  regarded 
as  authoritative,  leaving  it  with  every  individual  to 
determine  for  himself  how  many  such  councils  there 
were.     At  last,  however,  by   some  side  issue   the 
dreaded    explosive  was  introduced,  and  this,  like  a 
bag  of  dynamite,  required  to  be   handled   tenderly. 
The  members  of  the  English  bench  wished  to  get 
rid  of  it  as  quietly  as  possible,  and  the  American 
bishops,  with  the  exception  of  Bishop  Hopkins,  took 
little  part  in  the  debate — not  regarding  the  matter 
as   specially   concerning   them,   while   the    African 


THE  FIRST   PAN-ANGLICAN   CONFERENCE.       1 5/ 

Metropolitan,  the  so-called  "lion-hearted  Bishop 
Gray,"  advanced  to  the  fight  with  all  his  armor  on. 

On  the  one  side  Bishop  Tait,  with  his  skillful 
rapier,  did  his  best  to  parry  and  turn  aside  with 
quiet  persistency  the  attacks  of  the  lion-hearted 
Metropolitan — Bishop  Wilberforce,  of  whom  Charles 
Sumner  once  said  that  if  he  had  not  unfortunately 
been  an  ecclesiastic  he  might  have  been  Lord  High 
Chancellor  of  England,  steering  the  ship  carefully 
between  Scylla  and  Charybdis,  so  that  the  church 
might  not  touch  the  rocks  on  either  side — Bishop 
Thirlwall,  greatest  man  of  all,  whose  carefully  chosen 
words  fell  like  a  ponderous  trip  hammer  upon  the 
anvil  beneath,  and  a  man  endowed  with  just  that 
absence  of  oratorical  grace  that  sometimes  gives  one 
peculiar  power — those  were  the  three  most  promi- 
nent speakers  on  one  side;  while  Bishop  Gray,  "the 
lion-hearted,"  rising  above  all  questions  of  expedi- 
ency, maintained  his  cause  unflinchingly  and  with  a 
fiery  earnestness  and  ferocity  of  virtue,  indicating 
that  he  needed  no  help  from  others,  but  was  entirely 
competent  to  fight  his  battles  alone.  The  result  of 
the  whole  controversy  was  the  refusal  on  the  part 
of  the  Conference  as  a  body  to  take  any  official 
action  in  the  premises. 

This  allusion  to  Bishop  Gray  reminds  me  that  on 
one  occasion  subsequent  to  this,  when  the  members 
of  the  Pan-Anglican  Conference  were  entertained  in 
St.  James'  Hall  by  the  Society  for  the  Propagation 
of  the  Gospel,  the  bishop  indulged  himself  in  a  vio- 
lent and  ill-timed  address,  in  the  middle  of  which  I 
left  the  hall  and  on  my  way  to  the  street  encountered 
Bishop  Tait,  at  that  time  Bishop  of  London,  who 


158  REMINISCENCES. 

seemed  to  be  in  a  state  of  great  irritation,  and  pro- 
ceeded to  comment  upon  the  address  which  was  then 
in  the  process  of  delivery  after  a  fashion  which 
startled  me  a  little,  considering  the  position  of  the 
speaker,  and  I  observe  that  in  his  diary,  under  date 
of  the  same  day,  the  good  man  expresses  his  regret 
that  he  should  have  been  tempted  to  say  some 
unwise  and  imprudent  things.  There  was  really 
nothing  wrong  or  untrue  in  what  he  said,  but  the 
flavor  of  the  words  was  not  distinctively  Episcopal. 

The  general  results  attained  by  the  first  Pan- 
Anglican  Conference,  as  I  have  already  remarked, 
were  not  very  striking — no  great  subject  bearing 
upon  the  necessities  and  peculiar  perils  of  the  age 
was  considered,  and  nothing  that  was  likely  to 
bring  out  the  best  powers  of  the  men  who  sat  in 
council,  in  which  respects  it  was  in  marked  contrast 
with  some  of  the  sessions  which  have  followed.  It 
was  a  delightful  family  party,  allowing  for  the  little 
jars  incidental  to  domestic  gatherings,  but  it  left 
no  great  impression  on  the  world  at  large,  and  the 
results  hardly  seemed  to  warrant  the  expenditure 
of  time  and  money  required  in  gathering  together 
such  a  large  body  of  men  from  every  quarter  of  the 
globe. 

A  somewhat  novel  series  of  services  was  held  at 
noon-day,  during  the  week  preceding  the  session 
of  the  Conference,  in  old  St.  Lawrence  Church,  in  the 
Jewry,  for  the  benefit  of  business  men,  and  the 
crowds  in  attendance  were  so  great  as  to  lead  the 
London  Times  to  protest  against  the  blocking  of 
the  streets  in  business  hours  by  these  gatherings. 
I  was  appointed  to  take  my  turn  on  Thursday,  and 


THE   FIRST   PAN-ANGLICAN   CONFERENCE.        1 59 

informed  that  a  carriage  would  be  sent  in  due  season 
to  bring  me  to  the  church.  I  was  staying  at  Prince's 
Gate  in  Hyde  Park,  several  miles  from  the  church, 
and  after  waiting  for  the  carriage  as  long  as  I  dared, 
I  called  for  a  cab  and  told  the  driver  that  he  should 
have  double  fare  if  he  would  put  me  down  at  the 
church  before  twelve  o'clock.  As  he  had  to  drive 
through  the  busiest  streets  of  London,  it  required  all 
the  skill  of  a  London  cabman  to  do  this,  and  when 
I  reached  my  destination  it  was  some  time  before 
I  could  penetrate  the  crowd  and  reach  the  vestry- 
room.  After  this  experience  I  was  not  in  a  very 
good  condition  for  the  work  before  me,  and  as  I  had 
written  nothing,  of  course  I  was  in  an  anxious  and 
uncomfortable  frame  of  mind.  There  was  no  pre- 
liminary service  but  the  Te  Deum,  and  when  I  looked 
down  from  the  pulpit  upon  the  crowd  of  men 
assembled  in  that  ancient  temple,  my  heart  sank 
within  me.  However,  I  did  the  best  that  I  could 
to  rally  my  poor  scattered  faculties,  and  at  last,  when 
I  struck  the  right  key  and  began  to  tell  the  laymen 
how  indispensable  it  was  for  them  to  take  hold  and 
do  their  part  if  they  wished  to  save  the  old  ship,  I 
had  no  further  cause  for  embarrassment,  and  the 
manifest  sympathy  of  the  audience  helped  me  on 
comfortably  to  the  end. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

MY  EXPERIENCE   ABROAD. 

I  HAVE  already  alluded  to  my  experience  in  find- 
ing the  way  from  Prince's  Gate  to  St.  Lawrence 
Church  in  Jewry,  and  not  long  after  I  was  invited 
by  one  of  the  large  church  societies  in  London  to 
preach  on  a  Sunday  morning  in  a  remote  part  of  the 
outskirts  of  the  city,  with  the  view  of  making  a  col- 
lection in  its  behalf.  The  congregation  was  large 
and  apparently  very  intelligent,  and  if  all  of  the  five 
hundred  people  who  were  present  contributed  the 
same  amount  that  I  was  obliged  to  pay  for  the 
privilege  of  addressing  them  the  offertory  must 
have  been  a  generous  one. 

I  had  another  experience  in  London  a  little  later 
on  that  was  somewhat  peculiar. 

I  had  engaged  to  preach  in  a  large  church  near 
Hyde  Park  on  a  Sunday  morning,  and  I  took  with 
me  a  sermon  that  I  thought  was  suitable  for  the 
occasion,  when,  at  the  close  of  the  Nicene  creed,  and 
the  time  came  for  me  to  enter  the  pulpit,  the  rector 
gave  out  Heber's  missionary  hymn.  I  crossed  the 
chancel  and  asked  him  if  he  had  selected  that  hymn 
for  any  particular  reason,  and  he  said,  "Of  course; 
you  are  to  preach  this  morning  in  behalf  of  the 
Society  for  the  Propagation  of  the  Gospel."  I  told 
him  that  I  had  never  been  in  formed  of  this,  and  it 

1 60 


MY   EXPERIENCE  ABROAD.  l6l 

would  be  impossible  for  me  to  do  so  without  some 
preparation,  He  replied  that  I  had  been  posted  all 
about  the  city,  that  the  people  had  come  there  for 
the  special  purpose  of  hearing  me  on  that  subject, 
and  a  collection  was  to  be  made  accordingly,  and 
I  must  do  it,  whether  I  could  or  not.  I  saw  that 
there  was  no  alternative,  and  crawled  up  the  pulpit 
stairs  in  a  most  forlorn  condition  of  mind,  and  trust- 
ing that  some  higher  power  might  come  to  my 
rescue.  While  they  were  singing  the  last  verse  of 
the  hymn  it  occurred  to  me  that  the  best  thing  I 
could  do  was  to  inform  the  congregation  just  what 
had  happened  and  throw  myself  upon  their  mercy, 
telling  them,  at  the  same  time,  that  they  knew  about 
as  well  as  I  did  what  I  was  going  to  say.  I  then 
gave  the  first  start  to  the  engine  by  remarking  that 
if  anyone  from  the  other  side  of  the  water  ought  to 
be  able  to  speak  in  behalf  of  this  society  without 
much  preparation,  I  supposed  that  I  was  the  man, 
as  I  represented  a  diocese  which  was  founded  by 
that  society  in  the  second  year  of  its  existence,  and 
all  the  churches  in  Rhode  Island  were  aided  by  the 
same  during  the  larger  part  of  the  last  century.  I 
then  went  on  to  tell  them  in  detail  just  what  had 
been  done  there,  and  spoke  of  old  Trinity  in  New- 
port, where  Berkeley  used  to  preach,  with  the  organ 
still  standing  in  the  gallery,  surmounted  by  the 
crown  and  miter,  which  was  his  gift,  and  everything 
about  the  building,  just  as  it  was  in  the  beginning, 
nearly  two  hundred  years  ago.  Then  I  took  them 
across  the  bay,  and  showed  them  the  old  Narragan- 
sett  Church,  with  the  date  of  its  erection,  1707,  over 
the  door,  the  oldest  Episcopal  church  now  standing 


l62  REMINISCENCES. 

in  the  Northern  States,  and  where  we  still  hold 
services  on  pleasant  summer  afternoons,  although  a 
new  church  has  been  built  close  by.  Then  I  told 
them  of  the  arrival  of  their  missionary  in  Bristol  on 
a  Saturday  evening,  before  the  church  was  finished, 
and  how  he  started  the  people  off  to  get  benches 
and  put  the  church  in  condition  for  service  on  the 
next  morning ;  and  then  I  had  a  few  words  to  say 
about  the  old  King's  Church  in  Providence,  now 
known  as  St.  John's,  and  told  them  how  much  these 
churches  were  doing  for  missions  and  how  the  seed 
which  the  society  had  sown  had  multiplied  a  hun- 
dred-fold, and  so  on  to  the  end,  and  upon  the  whole 
I  am  inclined  to  believe  that  the  offering  that  day 
was  as  large  as  it  would  have  been  if  I  had  delivered 
what  is  commonly  known  as  "an  able  and  eloquent 
discourse." 

I  saw  one  of  the  big  posters  on  which  the  rector 
of  the  church  had  relied  to  give  me  information  of 
the  fact  that  I  was  to  preach  on  behalf  of  the  Society 
for  the  Propagation  of  the  Gospel  and  it  would  have 
done  credit  to  Mr.  Barnum,  both  in  its  size  and  bril- 
liant coloring,  but  it  did  not  happen  to  attract  my 
attention  in  time  for  the  Sunday  service. 

I  have  one  further  experience  to  relate  of  the  trials 
which  befell  me  abroad.  On  a  certain  anniversary 
occasion  I  preached  in  Winchester  Cathedral,  in  the 
presence  of  Bishop  Sumner,  who  has  had  three  suc- 
cessors in  office  since  that  time,  and  to  my  amaze- 
ment, among  those  who  occupied  the  chancel  was 
Canon  Carus,  Simeon's  Curate  in  Oxford,  and  whom 
I  associated  with  a  former  age — just  as  I  once  told 
Bishop  Short  of  St.  Asaph's,  whose  history  of  the 


MY   EXPERIENCE   ABROAD.  163 

Church  of  England  had  been  on  my  shelf  nearly  as 
long  as  I  can  remember,  that  I  had  always  thought 
of  him  in  connection  with  the  period  of  the  "ju- 
dicious Hooker."  And  there  was  also,  at  the  time 
of  which  I  speak,  another  clergyman  in  the  chancel, 
more  than  ninety  years  old  and  entirely  blind,  who 
intoned  the  prayers  by  memory.  Everything  went 
off  very  pleasantly  during  the  day,  and  my  trials 
came  in  the  evening.  Bishop  Wilberforce,  hearing 
that  I  was  to  be  in  Winchester  on  that  day,  had 
written  to  ask  me  if  I  would  meet  him  at  night  in 
the  City  Hall,  where  he  was  to  deliver  an  address 
on  missions,  and  say  a  few  words  relative  to  the 
condition  of  the  Church  in  the  United  States.  I 
replied  that  I  would  do  so  cheerfully,  and  in  the 
evening,  on  my  arrival  at  the  Hall,  I  found  a  large 
assemblage  of  the  best  people  in  Winchester,  the 
school  and  cathedral  professors  and  canons  on  the 
platform,  with  the  Mayor  and  Aldermen  of  the  city, 
and  the  member  of  Parliament  in  the  chair.  Just 
as  the  hour  for  opening  the  meeting  arrived,  a  tele- 
gram from  Bishop  Wilberforce  was  placed  in  the 
chairman's  hands,  stating  that  he  had  been  suddenly 
taken  ill  and  could  not  be  present.  After  reading 
this  message  to  the  audience  and  expressing  his 
regrets,  the  chairman  said  that  as  but  one  other 
speaker  had  been  engaged,  he  must  request  the 
Bishop  of  Rhode  Island  to  occupy  the  entire  even- 
ing, adding  that  carriages  had  been  ordered  for  half 
after  nine  o'clock.  In  our  land,  of  course,  there 
would  have  been  at  least  half  a  dozen  speakers 
ready  to  meet  the  emergency  and  talk  at  any  length, 
but   it   is   not    so   in    the   mother   country.     For   a 


164  REMINISCENCES. 

moment,  as  might  be  expected,  I  was  in  great  per- 
plexity, when  a  happy  thought  came  into  my  mind, 
which  brought  relief.  I  began  my  remarks  by  say- 
ing that  it  would  have  been  somewhat  trying  to 
supplement  an  address  from  the  Bishop  of  Oxford, 
and  it  would  be  impossible  for  me  to  take  his  place, 
especially  as  I  had  made  no  preparation  except  to 
think  over  a  few  points,  which  I  could  dispose  of  in 
half  an  hour,  but,  I  added,  "If  those  who  are  pres- 
ent, while  I  am  talking,  will  charge  their  minds  with 
questions  pertaining  to  the  subject  in  hand,  I  will 
do  what  I  can  to  answer  them."  Accordingly,  after 
the  thirty  minutes  were  over,  1  said,  "I  will  now  wait 
for  the  audience  to  respond,"  and  the  questions 
came  fast  and  thick,  some  of  which  I  was  able  to 
answer,  while  others  were  beyond  my  depth,  as  I 
honestly  confessed.  The  result  was  that  we  had  a 
lively  time,  and  much  more  agreeable  than  it  would 
have  been  if  I  had  gone  on  droning  for  another  hour. 
In  resorting  to  this  device,  I  presumed  very  much 
upon  the  intelligence  and  good  breeding  of  my 
auditors;  in  some  cases  it  would  not  be  likely  to 
work  very  well. 

Some  murky  associations  were  revived  at  2,  purple 
dinner  at  Fulham,  the  residence  of  the  Bishop  of 
London — not  by  the  purple  color  of  the  clothes 
worn  by  English  bishops  on  state  occasions,  but  by 
the  surroundings  of  the  table.  Everything  had  a 
flavor  of  the  past — the  bishop's  chaplain  in  gown 
and  bands  to  say  grace,  as  we  see  in  Hogarth's  pic- 
tures, the  more  honored  guests  occupying  the  raised 
dais,  with  the  high  minstrel's  gallery  at  the  opposite 
end,  and  as  I  looked  about  the  stately  hall  I  asked 


MY   EXPERIENCE  ABROAD.  165 

the  bishop  if  he  was  accustomed  to  dine  there  when 
he  was  alone  with  his  family.  He  said  with  a  smile 
that  the  dining-hall  came  into  use  only  on  special 
occasions,  remarking  that  this  room  was  fitted  up 
and  furnished  by  Bishop  Bonner,  and  had  never  been 
altered  since  his  time.  All  at  once  there  came  to 
me  the  recollection  of  the  long  Sunday  hours,  when 
in  my  boyhood  I  used  to  linger  over  the  pages  of 
Fox's  "Book  of  Martyrs,"  and  read  about  the  awful 
Bishop  Bonner,  and  look  at  the  pictures  of  the  poor 
wretches  put  to  death  under  his  instigation,  and  it 
was  this  which  made  the  atmosphere  of  that  dining- 
hall  seem  so  ghostly  and  gruesome. 

I  recall  one  or  two  other  dinners  later  on  at  Lam- 
beth, after  Bishop  Tait  was  elevated  to  the  See  of 
Canterbury,  one  of  which  was  said  to  be  the  largest 
gathering  of  bishops  ever  assembled  at  a  dinner 
table  in  London,  conspicuous  among  whom  was  an 
African  bishop,  in  full  Anglican  costume,  and  no 
one  was  treated  with  greater  deference  than  this 
sable  ecclesiastic.  The  other  dinner  was  a  small 
affair,  the  most  conspicuous  guest  being  the  famous 
Trojan  explorer  Schlieman,  who  to  a  great  extent 
monopolized  the  talk  with  interesting  stories  of  his 
adventures  and  discoveries,  as  it  was  hoped  he  would 
do,  and  after  the  guests  had  gone  and  we  were 
sitting  by  the  parlor  fire,  talking  over  the  dinner, 
the  archbishop  said:  "It  is  a  great  relief,  when  you 
ask  a  lion  to  dine  with  you,  to  find  that  he  is  willing 
to  roar." 

The  character  of  Archbishop  Tait  is  so  familiar 
to  us  all  that  it  might  seem  to  be  superfluous,  if  not 
impertinent,  to  say  a  word  in'his  praise,  but  I  cannot 


l56  REMINISCENCES. 

deny  myself  the  satisfaction  of  expressing  my  own 
deep  sense  of  his  kindness  to  one  who  had  no  claim 
whatever  upon  his  attention,  and  could  have  no 
opportunity  of  returning  that  kindness.  He  was  a 
man  of  many  sorrows,  but  he  made  many  others 
happy. 

I  also  wish  to  say  a  few  words  of  the  late  Arch- 
bishop Thompson,  to  whom  I  was  indebted  for  the 
most  abundant  hospitality,  and  under  whose  roof  at 
Bishopsthorpe  I  passed  some  of  the  most  delightful 
days  of  my  life.  Since  his  departure  I  have  seen 
him  spoken  of  in  the  public  papers  as  cold  and 
repellant,  but  my  own  experience  was  that  no  one 
could  be  more  approachable  and  agreeable.  I 
remember  how  he  used  to  come  into  my  room  in 
the  forenoon  and  talk  by  the  hour,  and  laugh  over 
the  letters  that  I  received  from  home.  One  evening 
at  dinner,  as  we  were  discussing  some  historical 
event,  he  pointed  to  a  picture  on  the  wall,  which 
was  lined  with  portraits  of  the  archbishops  of  York, 
going  back  to  a  very  remote  period,  and  said,  pleas- 
antly, "This  event  must  have  occurred  in  the  time 
of  tJiat  old  chap  up  there  in  the  corner,"  pointing  to 
one  of  his  illustrious  predecessors. 

I  was  requested  by  some  of  the  canons  of  York 
Minster  to  ask  the  archbishop  if  he  would  not  favor 
certain  changes  in  the  interior  arrangements  of  the 
edifice,  and  he  told  me  in  reply  that  it  would  be 
worse  than  useless  for  him  to  interfere.  This  free- 
dom of  the  abbeys  from  Episcopal  control  seems  to 
be  a  singular  anomaly.  At  the  meeting  of  the  Pan- 
Anglican  it  was  desired  to  hold  the  closing  services 
in  Westminister  Abbey,  but  the  Bishop  of  London 


MY  EXPERIENCE  ABROAD.  1 6/ 

said  that  he  had  no  rights  there,  and  the  service  was 
not  held.  In  some  ways  the  old  dead  monks  still 
have  their  way. 

Archbishop  Thompson  was  a  learned  man  and  a 
profound  thinker,  and  the  author  of  a  few  excellent 
works.  He  told  me  that  one  of  the  most  satisfactory 
things  in  connection  with  his  literary  efforts  was  the 
introduction  of  his  book  on  Logic  in  our  American 
schools.  He  was  a  man  of  commanding  appearance 
and  looked  the  archbishop,  but  I  never  saw  any 
vestige  of  the  pomp  of  manner  which  has  been  attrib- 
uted to  him.  He  had  his  own  opinions,  and  was 
not  likely  to  give  them  up  very  readily,  but  he  had 
no  fond  conceit  of  wisdom  and  none  of  that  show  of 
magnificence  in  which  some  ecclesiastics  indulge. 
He  was  a  true  and  a  good  man. 

I  must  not  fail  to  record  the  attractiveness  of 
Bishop  Wilberforce,  as  I  saw  him  in  the  privacy  of 
domestic  life,  where  he  always  had  so  much  to 
occupy  him,  being  obliged,  as  he  told  me,  to  send 
off  on  the  average  fifty  letters  a  day.  He  was  re- 
fulgent at  his  own  dinner  table,  especially  as  he 
appeared  one  evening  when  he  had  invited  a  few  of 
the  Oxford  men  to  dine  with  him,  including  the 
Vice  Chancellor  of  the  University,  Dean  Mansell, 
Dr.  Liddon,  and  others.  It  was  a  very  lively  dinner, 
and  Dean  Mansell  was  particularly  occupied  in 
putting  strange  conundrums.  Toward  the  close  of 
the  entertainment  I  told  him  that  I  had  read  some 
of  his  books,  although  I  was  not  sure  that  I  really 
understood  them,  and  I  had  expected  that  we  should 
have  something  in  the  same  line  from  his  lips  on  the 
present  occasion,  but  I  had  been  disappointed.     He 


l68  REMINISCENCES. 

laughed  and  said  that  the  dinner  table  was  not  the 
place  for  that  sort  of  thing.  I  then  thought  that  I 
would  try  him  on  a  question  of  ethics,  and  asked 
the  very  commonplace  question,  "Do  you  think  it  is 
ever  right  to  tell  a  lie?"  "Never!"  he  replied  with 
great  emphasis.  I  then  went  on,  "Suppose  that  you 
were  captured  by  a  pirate  and  your  life  had  been 
spared  on  the  condition  that  you  would  never  betray 
him,  and  subsequently  to  this  you  found  that  if  you 
did  not  betray  him  your  wife  and  children  would  be 
captured  and  killed,  what  would  you  do?"  "I  would 
betray  him,  whether  it  was  right  or  wrong,"  which 
showed  that  after  all  Dean  Mansel  was  human. 
Dr.  Liddon  was  the  only  silent  man  at  the  table, 
and  he  appeared  as  if  his  thoughts  were  revolving  in 
some  higher  sphere. 

Bishop  Wilberforce's  untimely  death  recalls  an 
incident  that  shows  how  fond  he  was  of  horse-back 
riding,  although  it  has  been  said  that  he  never  knew 
how  to  ride.  We  were  going  into  Oxford  one  morn- 
ing and  he  said  that  I  might  take  the  carriage  and 
he  would  join  me  at  a  fork  in  the  road,  as  he  always 
preferred  to  ride  as  far  as  he  could,  and  when  he 
appeared  and  took  his  seat  in  the  carriage,  I  observed 
that  he  was  a  good  deal  spattered  with  mud  and 
hardly  in  proper  condition  to  go  to  London,  whither 
he  was  bound.  Presently  he  said,  "You  don't  mind 
my  closing  the  windows,"  and  proceeded  to  extract 
a  fresh  suit  of  clothes  from  under  the  seat,  in  which 
he  arrayed  himself  as  a  gentlemen  should  for  the 
metropolis.  And  yet  it  was  by  a  fall  from  his  horse 
that  he  eventually  lost  his  life. 

Judging  from  what  I  saw  and  heard  I  should  infer 


MY  EXPERIENCE  ABROAD.  169 

that  there  is  greater  liberty  of  speech  in  England 
than  we  should  be  willing  to  endure  in  our  land. 
While  I  was  a  guest  of  the  Archbishop  of  York  I 
attended  a  missionary  meeting,  with  the  archbishop 
in  the  chair,  when  it  was  arranged  that  there  should 
be  four  speakers,  representing  the  four  quarters  of 
the  globe,  and  after  we  had  concluded  our  talks  a 
gentleman  in  the  audience  arose  and  proceeded  to 
read  the  clergy  of  the  cathedral  a  terrific  lecture  on 
the  neglect  of  duty,  saying,  among  other  things, 
that  they  were  shut  up  in  their  aristocratic  retire- 
ment, with  every  luxury  about  them,  and  never 
troubling  themselves  about  the  wants  and  sufferings 
of  the  poor  neglected  classes  in  York,  and  closing 
with  the  remark  that  he  intended  to  put  a  hundred- 
pound  note  on  the  plate  when  it  came  around.  I 
afterward  inquired  who  it  was  that  had  introduced 
himself  in  this  way,  and  was  told  that  he  was  one 
of  the  most  prominent  lawyers  of  the  city.  His 
remarks  did  not  appear  to  cause  any  excitement, 
and  I  heard  no  comments  made  upon  the  scene 
afterward. 

Later  on  I  had  a  somewhat  similar  experience  in 
Cambridge.  I  arrived  there  about  noon,  and  know- 
ing no  one  I  strolled  off  by  myself  to  see  the  sights, 
and  soon  encountered  a  stranger  in  the  street,  who 
stopped  and  said  that  he  had  recently  heard  me 
preach  in  London  and  I  might  be  pleased  to  know 
that  the  Archdeaconry  was  in  session  and  were  at  that 
time  lunching  at  a  tavern  which  he  pointed  out,  add- 
ing that  they  would  be  glad  to  see  me  there.  I  at 
once  acted  upon  this  suggestion,  and,  having  sent  in 
my  card,  was  cordially  received  and  given  a  seat  at 


I/O  REMINISCENCES. 

the  table.  It  seemed  that  the  subject  of  debate  was 
the  co-operation  of  the  laity  in  church  work,  and  as 
I  entered  a  lay  delegate  had  the  floor,  who  certainly 
was  gifted  with  great  plainness  of  speech.  I  listened 
with  wonder  and  almost  with  consternation  as  he 
went  on  to  arraign  the  clergy  for  their  manifold 
deficiencies,  making  his  own  rector  the  special  sub- 
ject of  criticism ;  but  no  one  appeared  to  be  at  all 
disturbed.  When  he  took  his  seat  I  was  asked  to 
tell  them  how  the  whole  thing  worked  in  the  United 
States,  where  the  laymen  are  so  prominent  in  church 
affairs,  and  what  counsel  I  had  to  give.  I  began  by 
saying  that  from  what  I  had  seen  and  heard  I  should 
advise  them  to  begin  with  breaking  in  the  laity 
gradually,  as  colts  are  broken,  by  giving  them  a 
double  or  triple  load  to  carry  at  first,  and  then,  when 
they  were  sufficiently  subdued,  to  put  them  into 
harness — remarking  that  in  my  first  parish  it  was 
said  that  while  I  was  the  Rector^  the  Warden  was 
the  Director,  and  the  Warden's  wife  the  Corrector, 
What  more  I  said  I  have  forgotten,  but  the  result 
was  a  favorable  one  for  me,  as  one  of  the  Fellows 
who  sat  by  my  side  at  once  asked  me  where  I  had 
left  my  luggage,  saying  that  I  must  be  his  guest 
while  I  remained  in  Cambridge. 

I  had  another  pleasant  experience  in  Oxford, 
where  at  the  time  I  had  no  acquaintance  and  carried 
no  letters  of  introduction.  On  my  arrival  at  the 
station  a  young  man  accosted  me,  saying  that  his 
father  was  the  Dean  of  Winchester,  and  had  informed 
him  that  I  was  to  arrive  by  that  train  and  that  I 
must  regard  myself  as  in  his  charge.  This  of  course 
opened  to  me  all  that  I  cared  to  see  and  hear  in 


MY   EXPERIENCE  ABROAD.  I /I 

Oxford,  and  I  have  never  had  the  opportunity  to 
thank  the  young  man  for  his  kindness  until  I  met  a 
middle-aged  and  somewhat  portly  English  clergy- 
man on  the  street  in  Baltimore,  at  the  meeting  of 
our  last  General  Convention,  who  stopped  and  asked 
me  if  I  remembered  the  youth  who  met  me  in 
Oxford  at  the  railway  station,  and  then  told  me  that 
he  was  that  young  man.  I  was  rejoiced  to  see  him, 
and  pleased  to  hear  that  he  was  occupying  posts  of 
great  importance  and  influence  in  the  Church  of 
England. 

I  have  many  other  reminiscences  of  life  abroad, 
of  which  I  might  speak,  if  it  were  not  for  the  fear 
of  becoming  tedious.  I  recall  with  much  interest 
the  memory  of  a  plain,  rough  church  in  doleful  East 
London,  with  its  unplastered  brick  walls,  but  still 
made  bright  and  cheerful  by  its  attractive  ritual  and 
chancel  adornments,  where  the  humble  people 
crowded  round  after  service  to  ask  after  their  friends 
and  relations  in  America,  some  of  them  in  one  part 
of  the  continent  and  some  in  another,  and  yet  whom 
they  could  not  help  feeling  I  must  have  met  some- 
where; and  another  little  stone  church  in  the  Scotch 
Highlands,  tucked  away  in  an  obscure  corner  among 
the  hills,  where  the  high  and  mighty  lairds  came  in 
full  costume,  and  where  we  had  a  service  of  marvel- 
ous length,  with  full  Morning  Prayer  and  Litany,  the 
Holy  Communion  and  sermon.  Baptism  and  the 
Churching  Office,  and  the  Lord's  Prayer  repeated 
indefinitely,  and  where  the  good  Scotch  critics  com- 
plained of  my  brogue  in  the  pulpit.  I  would  also 
like  to  tell  of  the  delightful  days  spent  under  good 
Dean    Ramsay's   roof    in   Edinburgh — the  Scot    of 


172  REMINISCENCES. 

Scots — whom  the  cabmen  of  Edinburgh  adore,  for 
when  they  found  that  I  was  going  to  his  house  they 
seemed  inclined  to  take  me  there  on  their  shoulders. 
I  would  also  like  to  say  a  little  about  our  American 
churches  on  the  continent  of  Europe,  all  of  which  I 
have  visited,  and  some  general  experiences  in  various 
foreign  regions,  but  my  space  is  limited,  and  for  this 
my  readers  may  possibly  feel  they  have  reason  to  be 
thankful. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

A   FEW   NOTABLE   MEN. 

There  were  a  few  notable  men  whom  I  knew, 
and  of  whom  I  have  not  yet  spoken,  who  had 
certain  marked  characteristics  that  distinguished 
them  from  the  rank  and  file  of  the  clergy. 
Seventy-four  years  ago  the  Rev.  Philander  Chase 
resigned  the  rectorship  of  Christ  Church,  Hart- 
ford, and  went  off  as  a  missionary  into  what 
was  then  regarded  as  the  Wild  West.  He  could 
have  had  but  one  motive  for  doing  this,  mak- 
ing some  allowance  for  the  spirit  of  adventure  that 
always  had  possession  of  him,  and  off  he  started  to 
do  his  own  work  in  his  own  way,  without  much 
regard  for  the  formalities  of  ofifice  or  opinion  of 
others.  The  general  incidents  of  his  career  are  so 
well  known  as  to  need  no  recital  here.  Kenyon 
College,  in  Ohio,  stands  as  the  monument  of  his  first 
great  adventure,  for  the  building  of  which  he  ex- 
tracted liberal  donations  abroad,  at  a  time  when  it 
was  considered  presumptuous  to  make  such  an 
application,  especially  in  England.  When  "the 
force  of  circumstances" — which  is  accountable  for 
so  much  in  this  world — drove  him  from  Ohio,  he 
started  again  in  Illinois  and  toiled  hard  for  the 
establishment  of  another  institution,  which  he  called, 
somewhat  prematurely.  Jubilee  College,  but,  after 

173 


174  REMINISCENCES. 

a  precarious  existence,  it  has  passed  into  oblivion. 
He  had  a  genius  for  begging,  and  this  with  him  was 
one  of  the  fine  arts. 

On  the  occasion  of  a  visit  to  New  York,  on  one 
of  his  eleemosynary  expeditions,  while  at  dinner  in 
the  company  of  a  little  circle  of  rich  men,  he  was 
observed  to  be  uncommonly  silent  and  sad,  when 
one  of  the  company  asked  him  if  he  had  anything 
special  in  his  mind  that  disturbed  him.  He  replied 
that  he  had,  but  did  not  like  under  the  circum- 
stances to  make  any  allusion  to  the  occasion  of  his 
trouble.  As  soon,  however,  as  they  began  to  express 
their  sympathy,  his  mouth  was  opened,  and  he  said 
with  many  groanings  and  sighs  that  he  was  wonder- 
ing how  he  could  get  home,  as  he  had  no  wagon  and 
no  money  to  buy  one.  At  once  the  gentlemen 
present  begged  him  to  give  himself  no  anxiety  on 
that  score,  as  it  would  give  them  the  greatest  pleas- 
ure to  furnish  him  with  a  carriage.  Upon  this  he 
rallied,  and  for  a  time  w^as  as  buoyant  as  ever,  but 
soon  relapsed  into  his  previous  melancholy  con- 
dition. Of  course  the  inquiry  then  came,  if  there 
was  anything  further  that  disturbed  him,  and  after 
a  reasonable  amount  of  urging  he  said  it  had  just 
occurred  to  him  that  a  vehicle  would  be  of  no  ser- 
vice if  he  had  no  horse  to  attach  to  it,  and  again  his 
mind  was  relieved  and  he  became  once  more  a  very 
attractive  companion. 

He  was  a  man  of  indomitable  courage,  and  where 
the  occasion  demanded  it  he  could  storm  and 
threaten  like  a  king.  When  he  was  once  called  to 
cross  a  very  tumultuous  and  dangerous  pond,  the 
Indian  in   whose   canoe   he  proposed  to  make  the 


A   FEW   NOTABLE   MEN.  1/5 

passage  declined  to  run  the  risk,  when  the  bishop, 
who  was  of  ponderous  dimensions,  drew  himself  up 
to  his  full  height  and  cried  in  a  voice  of  thunder, 
"Launch  your  canoe  !  JehovaJijireh!'''  The  terrible 
cabalistic  word  had  its  effect,  and  the  burly  bishop, 
with  his  frightened  pilot,  crossed  the  stream  in 
safety. 

The  late  Bishop  Henry  W.  Lee  of  Iowa,  who  was 
very  thin  in  his  youth  but  grew  to  be  uncomfort- 
ably stout  in  advanced  life,  told  me  that  he  some- 
times felt  inclined  to  attribute  his  excessive  growth 
to  an  anathema  once  pronounced  upon  him  when 
he  unintentionally  laughed  at  the  aged  prelate  as  he 
was  trying  to  help  him  out  of  a  carriage  and  he  got 
stuck  on  the  way,  when  the  bishop  turned  upon  him 
in  his  wrath,  and  doomed  him  to  become  as  fat  as 
he  was  before  he  died.  A  man  of  his  temperament 
could  hardly  help  becoming  the  victim  of  strong 
prejudices,  of  which  I  had  a  signal  illustration  when 
the  Rev.  Dr.  Dorr  and  myself  waited  upon  him,  as 
a  Committee  of  the  Pennsylvania  Convention,  to 
arrange  the  order  of  services  for  Bishop  Potter's 
consecration.  Dr.  Dorr,  who  conducted  the  whole 
matter,  was  an  intelligent  high  churchman,  and 
knowing  something  of  Bishop  Chase's  peculiarities, 
he  proceeded  to  suggest,  with  great  discretion,  one 
by  one,  the  names  of  the  bishops  who  were  expected 
to  officiate,  and  as  long  as  he  kept  along  the  line  of 
the  low  churchmen,  it  was  all  very  lovely  and  the 
good  old  gentleman  would  interrupt  him  with  such 
exclamations  as,  "Good  Bishop  Lee!"  and  "God 
bless  saintly  Bishop  Eastburn !"  "Yes,  yes,  put  his 
name  down !"  and  so  on  with  a  gradual  diminuendo 


176  REMINISCENCES. 

in  the  musical  scale  as  he  approached  the  other  line 
in  the  apostolic  succession,  when  there  was  a 
change  in  the  atmosphere,  and  when  the  last  name 
was  mentioned — most  obnoxious  of  all — the  presid- 
ing bishop  rushed  from  the  table  with  an  exclama- 
tion which  it  is  not  worth  while  to  repeat,  and  so  he 
continued  to  stalk  up  and  down  the  room,  until  he 
had  time  to  cool  off.  The  whole  thing  did  not  mean 
much ;  it  was  only  the  effervescence  of  the  man's 
nature — everything  went  on  smoothly  enough  after 
he  had  relieved  his  mind.  He  was  a  true,  genuine, 
earnest,  self-sacrificing  man,  and  if  he  did  nothing 
more  than  the  clearing  away  the  underbrush  in  the 
woods  to  make  way  for  those  who  were  to  succeed 
him,  he  certainly  did  not  live  in  vain. 

The  Rev.  Dr.  George  T.  Chapman  was  a  noted 
man  of  the  same  period ;  like  Bishop  Chase,  a  pon- 
derous person,  with  large  features,  large  feet,  large 
hands,  a  deep,  sonorous  voice  and  a  general  air  of 
one  born  to  command.  A  volume  of  his,  entitled 
"Sermons  to  Presbyterians,"  had  a  wide  circulation 
and  made  many  converts  to  Episcopacy.  He  had 
not  a  very  wide  range  of  acquirements,  but  what  he 
did  know  he  knew  thoroughly  and  believed  im- 
plicitly. He  had  a  strong  gift  of  assertion,  and 
always  spoke  ex  cathedra  in  public  and  private, 
His  ordinary  talk  was  in  the  style  of  declamation, 
and  he  enjoyed  in  the  highest  degree  a  gladiatorial 
contest  with  an  earnest  adversary.  He  never  made 
any  compromises,  never  made  any  nice  distinctions, 
was  never  influenced  by  sentiment  or  carried  away 
by  his  feelings.  It  was  with  him  an  occasion  of 
great  lamentation  that  the  doctrine  of  eternal  dam- 


A  FEW   NOTABLE   MEN.  1 77 

nation  was  not  preached  more  persistently,  and 
to  this  neglect  he  attributed  most  of  the  errors 
and  evils  of  the  time.  It  was  not  worth  while 
to  argue  with  him  about  anything;  he  had  made 
up  his  mind  and  that  was  the  end  of  it.  He  re- 
tired from  active  duty  some  time  before  his  death, 
and  closed  his  days  peacefully  in  Newburyport, 
my  native  town. 

The  Rev.  Dr.  Hallam,  of  New  London,  Conn., 
was  always  an  object  of  interest  in  the  circle  where 
he  moved,  and  those  who  knew  him  most  intimately 
had  the  greatest  admiration  of  his  powers.  He  was 
sharp-sighted  and  read  men  and  things  very  keenly, 
and  was  specially  gifted  in  sententious  criticism.  I 
once  asked  him  what  he  thought  of  a  certain  sermon 
preached  on  a  great  occasion,  and  he  replied  that  it 
had  considerable  merit  and  contained  some  things 
that  were  new  and  some  that  were  true,  but  the  new 
were  not  true  and  the  true  were  not  new. 

He  was  noted  for  his  extraordinary  texts.  Hav- 
ing been  invited  to  preach  the  sermon  at  the  conse- 
cration of  a  little  church  in  a  rocky  town,  he  selected 
for  his  text  Proverbs  xxx.  26:  "The  conies  are 
but  a  feeble  folk,  yet  made  they  their  houses  in 
the  rocks."  He  was,  however,  induced  to  change 
the  text  before  delivering  the  discourse.  He 
once  preached  a  sermon  in  my  church  at  Hart- 
ford from  Hosea  vii.  8:  "Ephraim  is  a  cake 
not  turned."  Then  going  on  to  say,  "Like  some 
Christians  of  an  uncertain  sort — half  dough,  half 
charcoal,"  and  a  wonderful  sermon  it  was,  full 
of  pithy  thoughts  and  wise  suggestions.  He 
was  very  absent-minded,  and  his  wife  told  me  that 


178  REMINISCENCES. 

she  would  not  venture  to  send  him  to  buy  any- 
thing without  furnishing  him  with  a  written  order, 
as,  if  she  asked  him  to  send  home  a  bag  of  flour,  he 
was  just  as  likely  to  order  a  gallon  of  molasses. 
He  once  took  his  hat  with  him  into  the  pulpit 
instead  of  his  sermon,  and  after  rising  from  his  pri- 
vate devotions,  according  to  the  custom  of  the  times, 
it  was  an  awkward  matter  to  convey  the  hat  back 
again  to  the  vestry-room  and  bring  back  the  sermon 
in  its  place.  He  was  a  noble  specimen  of  a  some- 
what obsolete  type  of  clergymen,  and  died  quietly 
in  his  nest  after  having  secured  the  erection  of  a 
beautiful  church,  and  leaving  behind  him  the  record 
of  a  true  and  most  exemplary  life. 

The  name  of  the  Rev.  James  Cook  Richmond 
was  once  very  familiar  in  the  Church,  and  probably 
no  clergyman  ever  lived  in  this  country  who  founded 
as  many  parishes  as  he  did.  It  was  not  in  his  nature 
to  remain  long  in  any  one  place,  and  he  went  up 
and  down  the  land,  doing  all  sorts  of  novel  things, 
and  electrifying  the  people  by  his  earnestness  and 
eloquence.  I  remember  in  my  early  life  how  we 
would  sometimes  hear  the  church  bell  ring  out 
unexpectedly  on  a  week  day,  and  then  we  knew  that 
Mr.  Richmond  must  have  suddenly  turned  up  and 
there  would  be  a  public  service  in  the  evening.  He 
once  lighted  upon  me  at  an  evening  chapel  service 
in  Boston,  and  insisted  upon  preaching,  to  which  I 
reluctantly  consented  on  the  condition  that  he 
would  limit  himself  to  twenty  minutes,  and  thus 
give  me  time  to  say  a  few  words  which  I  had  pre- 
pared for  the  occasion.  After  he  had  far  exceeded 
the  time  allotted  him  I  pulled  his  skirts,  as   I  sat 


A   FEW   NOTABLE   MEN.  1 79 

behind  him  in  the  chapel  desk,  to  indicate  that  his 
time  was  up,  but,  instead  of  quietly  taking  the  hint, 
he  told  the  congregation  what  I  was  doing  and  what 
it  meant ;  but,  he  went  on  to  say,  "as  I  have  already 
broken  over  my  limits,  I  may  as  well  occupy  the 
entire  evening,"  and  I  had  no  opportunity  of  adding 
any  words  of  my  own. 

During  a  time  of  high  political  excitement  in  Aus- 
tria, Mr.  Richmond's  peculiar  movements  excited 
the  suspicions  of  the  authorities,  and  an  ofificer  was 
detailed  to  track  his  footsteps.  He  told  me  that  he 
soon  found  this  out  and  was  determined  to  test  the 
man's  power  of  endurance,  which,  with  his  long  legs 
and  wonderful  physical  vigor,  would  be  to  him  a 
comparatively  easy  task.  Accordingly  he  led  the 
poor  detective  all  day  long,  upstairs  and  downstairs, 
and  through  the  streets  and  alleys  and  parks,  until 
he  retired  from  the  scene  utterly  exhausted.  Mr. 
Richmond  was  arrested  at  last  on  suspicion,  but 
escaped  by  declaring  himself  to  be  a  Catholic  priest, 
which  with  his  church  views  he  could  do  honestly 
enough. 

In  the  latter  part  of  his  career  he  had  charge  of  a 
church  in  Milwaukee,  where  he  drew  crowds  by  his 
fervent  preaching,  but  at  last  his  eccentricities 
became  so  marked  that  the  doors  of  the  church  were 
closed  against  him.  When  Sunday  came  he  col- 
lected a  number  of  his  friends,  and  standing  before 
the  door  with  a  heavy  ax  in  his  hands  he  repeated, 
with  deep  solemnity,  "In  the  name  of  the  Father 
and  of  the  Son  and  of  the  Holy  Ghost,"  striking  the 
door  with  all  his  might  three  times,  when  it  gave  way 
and  the  usual  morning  service  proceeded.     It  hardly 


l8o  REMINISCENCES. 

needs  to  be  added  that  this  was  his  last  appearance 
in  that  church. 

As  a  specimen  of  Mr.  Richmond's  "great  plainness 
of  speech,"  I  give  the  following  extract  from  a 
"Palm  Sunday  sermon,"  preached  by  him  in  St. 
Paul's  Church,  Milwaukee. 

"As  the  rector  of  this  church,  and  having  the 
care  of  immortal  souls,  I  wish  also  deliberately  to 
apologize  to  some  of  the  communicants  of  this 
church,  for  having  been  so  thoughtless  as  to  appoint 
a  service  in  the  Church  of  Christ,  on  a  fast  day  in 
Lent,  at  the  same  hour  when  a  celebrated  play  actor 
was  to  mimic  a  fat  man  on  a  stage  in  a  hall. 

"The  great  De  Tocqueville,  in  his  immortal  work 
on  the  Democracy  of  America,  says:  'Behold  a 
nation  rotten  before  ripe !'  and  since  it  is  here 
thought  to  be  the  duty  of  an  American  preacher,  in 
a  free  country,  to  keep  back  the  truth,  lest  it  should 
not  tickle  the  ears  of  some  of  the  people  who  pay 
his  salary,  and  lest,  being  offended  when  their  sins 
are  reproved,  they  should  remove  their  custom  to 
another  meeting-house,  I  do  think  it  would  be  a 
profitable  and  popular  po/icj/  in  me,  and  wicked  and 
condemned  by  Christ  for  me,  to  sacrifice  my  feel- 
ings, try  to  be  popular,  veer  about  like  a  weather- 
cock with  every  breath  of  the  dying  people,  and  try 
my  hand  at  a  new  business — viz.,  preaching  to  order 
and  to  suit. 

"The  Holy  Week  is  begun.  There  will  be  morn- 
ing prayers  every  day  at  10:30.  As  to  the  evening, 
I  wish  to  compromise  with  those  communicants  who 
allowed  the  church  bell  to  toll  them  to  the  funeral 
of  their  souls — the  play  house,  on  a  fast-day — last 


A  FEW   NOTABLE   MEN.  l8l 

Friday  evening,  in  Lent ;  but  as  I  do  not  yet  know 
what  very  popular  and  favorite  play-actor  may 
intend  to  come  out  in  some  pleasing  farce  next 
Holy  Wednesday  evening,  I  will  omit,  for  the  sake 
of  my  play-going  communicants,  the  intended  Holy 
Wednesday  evening  service.     {This  did  Jiappen}j 

"But  I  promise  you,  truly  and  dearly  beloved,  that 
I  will  preach  more  plainly,  more  closely,  more  boldly, 
and  most  truthfully,  hereafter;  so  that  when  I  am 
removed  by  your  anger,  or  by  death,  some  man 
shall  stand  up  over  my  sepulcher,  and  say :  'Here 
lies  a  priest,  once  beloved  and  well  beloved  up  to 
the  time  when  he  told  the  truth  and  the  whole  of 
it ;  not  with  much  force,  indeed,  nor  any  great  ability, 
but  with  a  good  degree  of  straightforwardness, 
humbly  striving  to  follow  the  example  of  Him  who 
once  went  into  the  Temple  of  God  and  overthrew 
the  tables  of  the  money  changers,  interfering  with 
business,  heavy  profits,  rapid  sales,  and  quick 
returns.'  " 

During  his  ministrations  in  Rhode  Island  he  was 
accustomed  to  hold  services  under  the  shadow  of  an 
ancient  oak  near  the  place  where  Mr.  Blaxton  lies 
buried,  and  to  this  time  it  has  been  known  as  "the 
Catholic  oak."  It  is  proposed  to  hold  occasional 
services  in   the   same  place  during  the  summer. 

I  knew  another  clergyman  of  the  olden  time 
who  deserves  to  be  commemorated — the  Rev.  John 
Bristed,  for  many  years  the  rector  of  St.  Michael's 
Church,  Bristol,  R.  I.  He  was  an  Englishman  who 
came  to  this  country  as  a  lawyer,  and  wrote  one 
or  two  readable  books.  Although  he  was  not  the 
material  of  which  ministers  of  the  gospel  are  usually 


l82  REMINISCENCES. 

made,  he  possessed  certain  peculiar  attractions  which 
were  likely  to  make  him  prominent  in  whatever 
pursuit  he  might  see  fit  to  engage,  and  in  process 
of  time  presented  himself  to  Bishop  Griswold  for 
ordination,  whose  successor  he  became  as  the  rector 
of  the  Bristol  church.  Previous  to  this  he  had 
married  a  daughter  of  Mr.  John  Jacob  Astor  on  the 
condition  that  he  was  to  derive  no  pecuniary  benefit 
from  the  connection,  but  after  a  while  the  contract- 
ing parties,  finding  that  they  were  not  altogether 
congenial,  agreed  to  live  apart  for  the  remainder  of 
their  days.  As  an  evidence,  however,  of  there  being 
no  feeling  of  hostility  between  them,  they  were 
accustomed  to  dine  together  once  in  every  year  at 
Mr.  Bristed's  residence  in  New  York.  It  would  have 
been  interesting  to  listen  to  their  conversation  on 
such  occasions,  when  they  were  obliged  to  concen- 
trate the  talk  of  a  whole  year  within  the  space  of  a 
few  hours.  They  had  one  son,  Mr.  Charles  Astor 
Bristed,  well  known  in  literary  circles  and  a  distin- 
guished scholar  at  Oxford. 

Mr.  Bristed  was  very  unconventional  in  his  habits 
and  expressed  himself  without  reserve.  The  first 
time  that  I  met  him  was  at  a  meeting  of  the  Con- 
vention of  the  Eastern  Diocese,  fifty  or  sixty  years 
ago.  An  effort  had  been  made  to  elect  an  assistant 
bishop,  and  Drs.  J.  W.  Wainwright  and  John  S.  Stone 
were  the  rival  candidates.  A  few  of  us  bolted  and 
cast  our  votes  for  Professor  Alonzo  Potter,  and  this 
defeated  the  election,  much  to  the  chagrin  of  Mr. 
Bristed.  I  happened  to  sit  at  the  same  table  with 
him  at  tea  that  evening,  when  his  eye  suddenly  fell 
upon  me,  and  without  waiting  for  an  introduction 


A   FEW   NOTABLE   MEN.  1 83 

he  exclaimed  with  vehemence,  "You  are  one  of  the 
men  that  tried  to  sit  down  on  two  stools  this  morn- 
ing," and  then  he  went  on  to  administer  discipline 
to  his  heart's  content.  I  bore  it  all  meekly,  as  I 
knew  that  it  gratified  him  and  did  me  no  special 
harm.  At  the  close  of  another  Convention  he  said 
to  me,  "I  am  so  deaf  that  I  have  not  been  able  to 
hear  one  word  that  has  been  said  to-day."  "But 
you  voted  every  time,"  I  replied,  "how  did  you 
know  which  way  to  vote?"  "Oh,  I  never  have  any 
trouble  about  that,  I  just  watch  the  Philistines,  and 
when  they  vote  one  way  I  vote  the  other  way,  and 
then  I  am  sure  to  be  right." 

A  young  man  was  once  reading  the  service  for 
him  in  his  chapel,  and  not  having  a  very  clear  under- 
standing of  the  Scripture,  he  read  the  passage,  "Go 
to  710ZU,  ye  rich  men,"  with  a  strong  emphasis  on  the 
now,  when  Mr.  Bristed  interrupted  him  by  saying  in 
a  loud  tone,  "Go  to  where?" 

There  was  a  large  influx  of  the  Methodists  into 
the  Episcopal  Church  during  his  ministry,  bringing 
their  prayer-meetings  and  many  other  peculiar  insti- 
tutions with  them,  and  he  welcomed  them  all  and 
rather  encouraged  their  ways  and  doings.  The  Rev. 
Dr.  Milnor  of  St.  George's  Church,  New  York,  was 
in  Mr.  Bristed's  study  one  Sunday  morning,  when  he 
was  startled  by  a  tremendous  sound  from  the  neigh- 
boring chapel,  and  rushing  after  Mr.  Bristed,  he 
asked  anxiously  what  it  all  meant,  "Oh,  that  is 
Brother  A.  at  prayer."  "Does  he  always  make  as 
much  noise  as  this?"  "Well,  he  runs  the  ferry 
between  Bristol  and  Rhode  Island,  about  a  mile  or 
two  across  the.water,  and  when  he  asks  a  blessing  at 


l84  REMINISCENCES. 

the  table,  he  can  be  heard  distinctly  over  on  the 
island." 

The  race  of  strongly  marked,  eccentric  men  seems 
to  be  dying  out — the  constant  attraction  to  which 
we  are  all  subjected  wears  off  the  rough  edges  and 
polishes  human  beings  down  to  a  smoother  and 
rounder  surface,  just  as  ordinary  stones  are  reduced 
to  the  form  of  round  marbles,  after  being  rolled  long 
enough  in  a  barrel.  We  have  lost  something  of 
archaic  picturesqueness  by  this  process,  but  I  sup- 
pose there  is  no  help  for  it.  Good  Bishop  Latimer 
and  Dr.  South,  and  other  divines  of  their  stamp, 
would  astonish  a  modern  congregation  by  their 
utterances  but  they  would  be  sure  to  keep  the 
people  awake. 

I  did  not  intend  to  speak  of  my  brother,  the  Rev. 
Dr.  Samuel  A.  Clark  of  New  Jersey,  but  so  many  of 
his  old  friends  have  earnestly  requested  me  to  say 
something  about  him  that  I  feel  constrained  to  make 
a  brief  allusion  to  one  whose  departure  from  earth 
made  it  a  darker  place  for  me  than  it  ever  was 
before.  One  who  met  him  casually  and  when  it 
was  high-tide  with  him  might  be  inclined  to  say : 
"This  is  a  very  amusing  and  humorous  man  and  his 
talk  borders  upon  frivolity,"  but  let  the  same  person 
see  him  in  the  pulpit,  or  engaged  in  any  religious 
service,  and  he  would  say :  "This  is  a  very  earnest 
and  serious  man ;  he  believes  from  his  heart  every 
word  that  he  utters;  he  is  trying  to  save  the  souls  of 
these  people  whom  he  addresses."  Or  again,  if  he 
were  overheard  dealing  with  a  wealthy  parishioner  in 
private  who  had  fallen  into  evil  habits,  or  with  one 
of  his  communicants  who  Avas  leading  an  inconsis- 


A   FEW   NOTABLE   MEN.  1 85 

tent  life,  the  same  observer  would  be  likely  to  say : 
"This  is  a  most  courageous  man;  he  has  no  fear  of 
rank  or  station  or  outward  profession ;  he  is  a  very 
plain  talker  and  yet  he  knows  how  to  rebuke  with- 
out giving  offense — he  must  have  a  very  clear  con- 
science of  his  own  or  he  would  not  dare  to  talk  in 
this  style." 

But,  in  his  ordinary  life  and  when  there  was  no 
duty  pressing  upon  him,  he  bubbled  and  sparkled 
continually  like  a  fountain,  and  having  no  fear  of 
death  before  his  eyes — his  faith  never  failing  him — 
through  a  long  and  painful  illness  he  sustained  and 
comforted  the  household  with  bright  and  cheerful 
talk  to  the  very  end. 

As  a  specimen  of  his  adroitness  in  managing 
affairs,  after  the  new  and  costly  church  in  Elizabeth 
was  completed  it  was  found  that  a  debt  of  twenty 
or  thirty  thousand  dollars  remained  unpaid,  and  my 
brother  addressed  a  note  to  his  wealthier  parishion- 
ers, asking  them  to  meet  on  a  certain  evening  and 
see  what  could  be  done  to  free  the  church  from  en- 
cumbrance, adding  that  any  person  who  might  be 
unable  to  attend,  would  be  assessed  according  to  the 
best  discretion  of  those  who  might  be  present.  The 
next  morning  after  the  meeting  he  met  his  richest 
parishioner  on  the  sidewalk  and  said,  "you  were  not 
present  with  us  last  evening,  but  we  assessed  you." 
"I  presumed  that  you  would  do  so  from  what  you 
said  in  your  note.  How  much  did  you  assess  me?" 
"Well,  we  talked  you  over  pretty  thoroughly,  and 
as  you  are  our  richest  man,  we  all  thought  that  ten 
thousand  dollars  would  not  be  an  unfair  proportion 
to  lay  upon  you."     "That  is  absurd ;  I  will  not  give 


1 86  REMINISCENCES. 

such  an  amount  as  that."  "What,  then,  are  you 
willing  to  give?"  "I  will  give  five  thousand." 
*'Very  well,  it  is  all  right;  that  is  just  what  we  con- 
cluded to  assess  you." 

Again,  to  show  his  tact  and  readiness  in  an  emer- 
gency, at  one  of  the  sessions  of  the  Diocesan  Conven- 
tion a  venerable  clergyman  lost  the  thread  of  his 
talk  in  the  middle  of  his  speech,  and  being  unwilling 
to  sit  down,  hoping  that  he  might  recover  himself 
after  a  while,  he  stood  in  silence,  until  it  seemed  as 
if  the  pause  would  be  interminable.  At  last,  while 
everybody  was  suffering  under  the  long  suspense, 
my  brother  rose  in  his  place  and,  addressing  the 
Chair  with  great  deliberation  and  solemnity,  said  : 
"  Mr.  President,  I  trust  that  our  reverend  brother  will 
be  allowed  to  proceed  without  any  further  interrup- 
tion." This  at  once  broke  the  spell  and  restored  the 
equilibrium  to  the  embarrassed  speaker  and  he  went 
on  without  any  further  trouble. 

My  brother  was  not  in  any  sense  a  raco7iteur ;  he 
never  repeated  facetious  anecdotes,  or  indulged  in 
ordinary  witticisms,  but  he  seemed,  as  it  were,  to  be 
charged  with  carbonic  acid  gas,  which  kept  him  foam- 
ing all  the  time.  This  was  so  much  a  part  of  his 
nature  that  it  is  hard  to  conceive  of  him  as  entirely 
freed  from  humor  even  in  another  state  of  existence, 
and  if  it  is  true,  as  an  eminent  Presbyterian  minister 
once  said  to  me  he  believed  it  would  prove  to  be,  if 
we  were  ever  so  happy  as  to  find  ourselves  in 
iieaven,  we  would  probably  be  surprised  to  find  the 
Almighty  so  genial.  Certainly  there  is  nothing 
derogatory  to  the  character  of  our  Heavenly  Father 
in  such  a  supposition  as  this.     It  is  hardly  suppo^ 


A   FEW   NOTABLE   MEN.  18/ 

able  that  the  element  of  incessant  humor  was  im- 
planted in  our  nature  by  the  great  Adversary  of 
souls. 

I  wish  that  the  reminiscences  of  Bishop  Wilmer 
of  Louisiana  had  been  recorded — "We  ne'er  shall 
look  upon  his  like  again."  He  could  do  and  say 
things  with  profit  and  impunity  which  no  one  else 
would  think  of  doing  or  saying.  In  visiting  one  of 
his  parishes  he  was  told  that  the  Roman  Catholic 
priest  in  the  town,  otherwise  a  worthy  man  and 
capable  of  doing  much  good,  was  impairing  his  in- 
fluence by  the  use  of  stimulants.  At  once  Bishop 
Wilmer  waited  upon  the  gentleman  and  said  that 
in  the  absence  of  his  own  bishop  he  had  taken  the 
liberty  to  call  and  talk  things  over  with  him,  and 
before  he  left  the  heart  of  the  good  priest  was 
melted,  and  thanking  the  bishop  for  his  kindness, 
expressed  his  intention  to  profit  by  it.  There  are 
not  many  of  our  bishops  who  would  have  ventured 
to  do  that,  or  who  could  have  done  it  to  any  good 
purpose.  On  another  occasion  he  wormed  his 
way  into  the  confidence  of  Mr.  Stewart,  the  great 
New  York  merchant,  in  a  most  felicitous  style,  and 
it  was  a  rich  treat  to  hear  him  describe  the  opera- 
tion, as  I  once  heard  him  tell  the  story  at  full 
length. 

While  the  General  Convention  was  in  session  in 
Boston,  the  bishop  visited  Providence  on  one  of  the 
Sundays,  and  in  an  address  gave  us  the  following 
narrative.  "One  morning  last  week  I  bought  a  few 
articles  in  a  shop  on  Washington  Street  in  Boston, 
and  on  my  way  in  the  afternoon  to  get  the  bundle 
and  pay  the  bill,  I  saw  a  boy  on  the  Common  whose 


l88  REMINISCENCES. 

looks  I  fancied,  and  it  occurred  to  me  that  I  might 
as  well  send  him  to  do  the  errand.  Accordingly  I 
stopped  the  lad  and  said:  'Are  you  a  good  boy?' 
After  a  little  hesitation  he  replied,  *No.'  'What  do 
you  do,  that  is  bad?'  'Why,  I  swear  a  little.' 
'What  else?'  As  the  youth  did  not  appear  at  that 
moment  to  remember  what  his  other  failings  were, 
I  asked  him  if  he  was  honest?  Upon  the  whole,  the 
boy  appeared  to  think  that  he  was  honest.  'Well, 
then,  I  am  going  to  trust  you  with  $io  to  pay  a  bill 
for  me  in  Washington  Street,' — mentioning  the  name 
and  number  of  the  shop — 'and  you  must  bring  back 
the  receipted  bill  and  bundle  to  the  Brunswick 
Hotel  as  soon  as  you  can,  and  here  is  half-a-dollar 
to  pay  you  for  your  trouble.'  The  boy  started  on 
his  errand,  and  when  I  told  my  friends  at  the  hotel 
what  I  had  done,  they  said  I  had  done  a  very  foolish 
thing,  as  nothing  more  would  ever  be  seen  of  the 
money  or  the  bundles.  In  due  time,  however,  the 
boy  returned,  and  when  I  looked  at  the  bill,  I 
found  that  the  charge  was  $10.50  instead  of  $10, 
and  I  asked  the  boy  how  he  managed  to  pay  it  in 
full,  as  I  had  given  him  only  $10  for  this  purpose, 
and  the  reply  was  'I  took  the  half-dollar  that  you 
gave  me.  I  thought  I  could  trust  you  for  fifty 
cents.'  " 

On  a  certain  occasion  when  the  bishop  was  in 
imminent  danger  of  foundering  in  a  steamer  in  the 
Mississippi  River,  it  greatly  disturbed  his  mind  to 
think  that  he  might  be  lost  in  the  waters  and  so  be 
deprived  of  the  privilege  of  Christian  burial.  In 
order  to  get  relief  on  this  point  he  retired  to  his 
stateroom,  and  after  adjusting  himself  properly  at 


A   FEW   NOTABLE   MEN.  1 89 

full  length  in  his  berth,  he  read  the  entire  burial 
service  over  his  own  remains,  and  was  content. 

It  was  a  great  comfort,  after  a  long  and  dreary 
debate,  to  see  Bishop  Wilmer  quietly  emerge  from 
his  seat,  and  after  having  taken  his  usual  place  in 
the  center  of  the  House  of  Bishops  and  adjusted 
himself  after  his  customary  fashion,  bring  things  to 
a  summary  conclusion  with  a  few  quaint  and  irre- 
sistible words,  which  no  man  in  his  senses  would 
ever  venture  to  criticize.  I  wish  that  I  felt  at 
liberty  to  give  a  few  illustrations  of  this,  but  I  am 
told  that  it  would  not  be  "in  good  form  "  to  do  it. 
It  was  a  gloomy  day  for  the  House  of  Bishops  when 
Bishop  Wilmer's  light  went  out. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

MISCELLANIES. 

I  HAVE  often  found  much  pleasure  and  profit  in 
cultivating  the  acquaintance  of  persons  representing 
various  forms  of  belief,  and  in  this  way  have  been 
brought  into  agreeable  relations  with  some  of  my 
Roman  Catholic  brethren,  as  well  as  with  many  emi- 
nent leaders  in  the  Protestant  churches.  Not  unfre- 
quently  the  letters  addressed  to  the  "  Bishop  of 
Providence"  fall  into  my  hands,  and  my  correspond- 
ence comes  into  his  possession,  and  this  opens  the 
way  for  material  apologies  and  explanations. 

My  relations  with  the  Roman  Catholic  Bishop  of 
Boston  many  years  ago  were  very  pleasant,  and  on 
one  occasion,  at  the  close  of  a  somewhat  stately 
dinner,  after  the  guests  had  left  the  table,  he  said  to 
me:  "Now  let  us  go  aside  and  talk  over  Church 
matters."  I  told  him  that  I  was  at  his  service,  and 
he  began  with  asking  "Why  we  called  the  body  to 
which  I  belonged  a  Church?"  I  replied,  "Because 
we  have  the  primitive  creeds,  the  primitive  form  of 
government,  and  substantially  a  primitive  liturgy." 
"But,  then,  you  have  no  fixed  standard  of  faith  and 
no  authority  to  enforce  the  faith.  Bishop  Mcllvaine 
teaches  one  thing  and  Bishop  De  Lancey  another; 
how  are  you  to  know  which  is  right?"  "The  opinions 
of  individual  bishops  are  not  of  authority.     If  you 

iqo 


MISCELLANIES.  I9I 

wish  to  know  what  we  believe,  you  will  find  it  in  the 
Book  of  Common  Prayer.  And  now  let  me  ask, 
what  is  your  authoritative  standard  of  faith?"  "The 
Church,  of  course."  "Do  you  mean  by  this,  the 
decrees  of  the  Council  of  Trent?"  "No."  "Do  you 
mean  the  decrees  of  the  early  General  Councils?" 
"No;  the  Church  speaks  through  the  Pope,  and  his 
official  decision  is  final."  "But  Moehler,  your  great 
theologian,  says  that  some  of  the  Popes  were  very 
bad  men,  and  hell  has  long  since  swallowed  them 
up."  "I  am  afraid  it  has;  but  you  know  well 
enough  that  the  final  decree  of  an  official  is  one 
thing  and  his  personal  character  another,  and  after 
all  these  few  bad  men  were  no  worse  than  the  sur- 
rounding circumstances  were  likely  to  make  them.** 
"I  entirely  agree  with  you  in  that.  The  Pope, 
then,  is  final  authority  in  matters  of  faith.  Well, 
a  while  ago  you  had  a  letter  from  the  Pope,  asking 
your  opinion  as  to  the  expediency  of  declaring  the 
doctrine  of  the  Immaculate  Conception  of  the  Virgin 
Mary  to  be  an  article  of  the  faith.  I  presume,  there- 
fore, that  it  is  not  so  at  present,"  "It  is  not."  "If, 
then,  a  gentleman  should  call  upon  you  this  evening 
and  ask  whether  he  is  bound  to  accept  that  doctrine 
as  a  true  Catholic,  what  would  you  tell  him?"  "I 
should  tell  him  that  he  is  not  so  bound."  "Now, 
suppose  that  when  the  mail  arrives  to-morrow  morn- 
ing, you  should  receive  another  letter  from  the 
Pope,  stating  that  he  had  concluded  to  declare  this 
doctrine  to  be  of  the  faith,  and  a  second  gentleman 
should  wait  upon  you  in  the  evening  and  ask  the 
same  question,  what  would  you  say?"  "I  should 
tell  him  that  it  is  an  article  of  the  faith."     After  he 


192  REMINISCENCES. 

had  paused  for  a  moment  over  this  suggestion,  which 
seemed  to  make  the  great  question  of  authority 
rather  a  variable  quantity,  it  being  dependent  upon 
the  arrival  of  the  United  States  mail,  he  said :  ''Let 
us  drop  this  general  subject  and  talk  about  some- 
thing a  little  more  specific.  Do  you  believe  in  the 
real  presence  in  the  Holy  Sacrament?"  "Certainly 
I  do.  The  presence  is  either  real  or  unreal,  and  an 
unreal  presence  is  no  presence  at  all.  I  believe  in  a 
real  spiriUial  presence."  "But  Christ  says.  This  is 
My  body.  This  is  My  bloods  "Suppose,  then,  that 
Christ,  instead  of  giving  the  bread  and  wine  to  His 
disciples,  had  cut  small  pieces  of  flesh  from  His  arm 
for  them  to  consume — in  which  case  there  would 
have  been  no  need  of  any  act  of  transubstantia- 
tion — can  you  tell  me  in  what  way  they  would  have 
been  benefited  by  this?  In  other  words,  can  you 
inform  me  how  a  spiritual  substance  can  be  nour- 
ished by  a  material  substance?"  All  that  the  bishop 
had  to  say  in  reply  was  that  he  had  nothing  to  do 
with  the  philosophy  of  the  subject.  So  we  went  on 
in  a  kindly  way  from  one  thing  to  another,  and  I 
have  nothing  more  to  say,  except  that  if  I  did 
not  convert  him,  he  certainly  said  nothing  to 
convert  me. 

This  recalls  another  interview,  of  a  very  different 
character.  During  the  session  of  the  General  Con- 
vention in  New  York,  four  or  five  years  ago,  a 
committee  was  appointed  to  confer  with  another 
committee  from  the  General  Assembly  of  the  Pres- 
byterian Church  on  the  restoration  of  Christian 
unity.  We  met  at  the  residence  of  Mr.  Pierpont 
Morgan,  about  ten  or  twelve  persons  in  all,  includ- 


MISCELLANIES.  I93 

ing  our  own  presiding  bishop  and  the  moderator  of 
the  General  Assembly,  and  passed  a  very  delightful 
evening.  Nothing  was  said  in  a  general  way  about 
Christian  unity,  or  anything  else,  but  I  had  a  nice 
talk  with  the  Princeton  professor  and  gathered  from 
him  in  a  private  way  that  there  was  not  much 
prospect  that  the  Presbyterian  Church  would  relin- 
quish its  distinctive  name  in  favor  of  the  Historic 
Episcopate  any  more  than  we  are  likely  to  modify 
our  standards  of  doctrine  to  accord  with  the  West- 
minster Confession  of  Faith.  As  the  evening  drew 
to  a  close,  our  presiding  bishop  rose  and  with  his 
usual  grace  of  manner  said  that  while  we  might  not 
as  yet  be  prepared  to  labor  together,  we  could  cer- 
tainly pray  together,  and  he  would  ask  the  Moder- 
ator of  the  General  Assembly  to  lead  in  prayer. 
We  all  knelt  down  and  the  learned  divine  offered  an 
excellent  and  appropriate  petition,  and  immediately 
good  Bishop  Whipple,  our  apostle  of  love,  of  his 
own  motion  made  another  extempore  prayer,  some- 
what longer  and  more  fervid  than  the  former,  closing 
with  the  Lord's  Prayer,  in  which  we  all  joined,  and 
then  Bishop  Williams  gave  us  the  benediction  of 
peace.  This  was  all  very  refreshing  and  in  the 
spirit  of  love  and  unity.  A  very  satisfactory  repast 
awaited  us  in  an  adjoining  room,  and  when  I  left  I 
saw  our  venerable  Primate  and  the  venerable  Pres- 
byterian Moderator  joining  in  the  calumet  of  peace, 
so  that  in  one  sense  the  interview  may  be  said  to 
have  ended  in  smoke.  It  is  a  familiar  saying, 
Ex  fiuno  Iticcm,  and  so  it  may  prove  to  be  in 
this  case;  but  the  general  impression  left  upon 
my  mind  was  that  the  return  of  the  Church  to  its 


194  REMINISCENCES. 

original  unity  is  not  to  be  brought  about  by  official 
conferences. 

I  have  attended  a  great  many  public  meetings  in 
the  course  of  my  life  and  delivered  an  indefinite  num- 
ber of  orations  and  speeches,  and  do  not  hesitate  to 
say  that,  on  two  occasions,  I  gave  great  satisfaction. 
Many  years  ago  I  had  agreed  to  deliver  the  Fourth 
of  July  oration  in  Providence,  and  it  was  an  hour 
or  two  past  the  time  before  the  interminable  proces- 
sion reached  the  hall.  There  followed,  as  usual,  a 
series  of  introductory  exercises,  including  a  long 
prayer,  the  reading  of  the  Declaration  of  Indepen- 
dence, and  the  customary  assortment  of  tedious 
music,  and  as  it  was  an  intensely  hot  day,  before 
my  turn  came  the  audience  was  thoroughly  worn 
out  and  weary,  and  longing  to  have  the  whole  thing 
over.  With  this  feeling  I  was  in  most  thorough 
sympathy,  and  so  after  repeating  the  introduction 
to  my  oration,  which  occupied  some  three  or  four 
minutes,  I  told  the  people  that  I  knew  just  how 
they  felt,  and  how  much  obliged  they  would  be  to 
me  if  I  would  save  them  from  listening  to  my 
address,  and  as  they  would  be  able  to  read  it  the 
next  day  in  the  newspapers,  if  they  saw  fit  to  do  so, 
I  would  not  detain  them  any  longer.  The  demon- 
strations which  followed  showed  that  I  had  struck 
the  right  chord. 

My  experience  was  somewhat  different  on  the 
second  occasion,  but  the  result  equally  satisfactory. 
There  was  to  be  a  great  missionary  meeting  in  New 
York  and  four  bishops  were  appointed  to  speak  on 
as  many  different  subjects.  The  opening  services 
were  not  very  long,  and  after  they  were  closed  the 


MISCELLANIES.  I95 

first  speaker,  who  was  to  address  us  on  the  African 
mission,  took  the  floor.  His  faculties  appeared  to 
be  in  a  somewhat  chaotic  condition,  and  he  wandered 
about  the  universe  in  a  general  way,  alighting  almost 
everywhere  except  in  Africa,  to  which,  however,  he 
made  a  brief  allusion  before  closing  his  speech,  but 
it  seemed  as  if  that  close  would  never  come.  The 
clock  struck  nine  and  the  hands  "crept  on  in  petty 
pace,"  as  if  they  were  doomed  to  do  so,  "to  the  last 
syllable  of  recorded  time."  After  the  whole  con- 
gregation had  been  reduced  to  a  state  of  utter  des- 
peration, it  was  my  turn  to  come  in  and  take  up  the 
next  topic;  what  it  was  I  do  not  remember,  inas- 
much as  the  speech  was  never  delivered.  I  rose 
and  simply  said  that  as  two  other  speakers  were  to 
follow  me,  who,  I  felt  sure,  would  have  something 
interesting  to  tell  the  people,  I  did  not  think  that  I 
should  be  justified,  at  that  late  hour  of  the  night,  in 
consuming  the  time  which  really  belonged  to  them, 
and  so  took  my  seat.  This  was  the  second  occasion 
in  which  I  gave  satisfaction. 

I  have  just  taken  from  the  drawer  a  dingy  old 
manuscript,  which  has  been  lying  there  for  more 
than  forty  years,  which  I  find  by  the  dates  in  the 
margin  was  delivered  as  a  lyceum  lecture  on  fifty 
different  occasions.  It  is  entitled  "The  Next  Fifty 
Years,"  and  is  of  the  nature  of  a  prediction.  I  will 
give  a  few  extracts  from  this  ancient  document, 
reminding  the  reader  that  when  it  was  written  there 
had  been  no  scheme  of  a  railroad  to  the  Pacific,  or 
talk  of  the  Pullman  cars,  or  any  of  the  modern 
marvels  of  electricity.  Some  things  which  I  fore- 
told have  not  yet   come   to   pass,  but   there   still 


196  REMINISCENCES. 

remains  nearly  a  decade  for  their  fulfillment,  while 
innumerable  other  discoveries  and  inventions  have 
come  to  light  which  the  wildest  enthusiast  could 
not  have  dreamed  of  forty  years  ago. 

This  reading  over  for  the  first  time  of  one's  own 
writings,  produced  scores  of  years  ago,  excites  some 
singular  sensations.  It  may  be  difficult  to  identify 
the  work  as  your  own.  A  lady  once  took  one  of  the 
old-fashioned  Annuals  from  the  shelf  and  showed 
me  an  article  with  my  name  attached  to  it,  which  I 
presume  I  must  have  written,  as  I  was  in  the  habit 
of  contributing  to  these  ephemeral  books,  but  if 
the  name  had  not  been  there  I  should  never  have 
recognized  the  paper  as  my  own.  Many  men  of 
marked  ability  have  begun  life  with  the  publication 
of  works  which  they  afterward  were  glad  to  suppress, 
while  others  who  wrote  well  from  the  start  had  to 
wait  for  years  before  their  merits  were  recognized. 
Hawthorne,  in  speaking  of  his  "Twice-told  Tales," 
says  "that  these  stories  were  published  in  maga- 
zines and  annuals,  extending  over  a  period  of  ten 
or  twelve  years,  and  comprising  the  whole  of  the 
writer's  young  manhood,  without  making  (so  far  as 
he  has  ever  been  aware)  the  slightest  impression  on 
the  public,"  and  Dr.  Holmes  recently  told  me  that 
he  was  not  much  known  until  his  "Breakfast  Table 
Talk"  appeared  in  the  Atlantic  Monthly.  Here  and 
there  men  are  found  in  the  clerical  profession,  like 
Bishop  Brooks  and  Dr.  Alex.  H.  Vinton,  and  some 
few  others,  who  struck  twelve  in  the  beginning,  and 
went  on  striking  twelve  to  the  end.  I  began  in  a 
small  way  many  years  ago,  but  it  does  not  follow 
that  I  have  made  much  advance  since. 


MISCELLANIES.  197 

The  invertebrate  character  of  the  work  in  which 
I  am  now  engaged  must  be  my  apology  for  so  often 
sJinnting  off  upon  some  side-track,  and  I  return  to 
the  snuff-colored  lecture  lying  before  me.  It  begins 
with  saying  that  "The  history  of  the  next  fifty  years 
is  already  determined  by  causes  which  have  been 
operating  during  the  first  half  of  the  century,  and  if 
we  understand  these  causes  thoroughly  we  could 
tell  what  the  world  will  be  in  the  year  1900.  Since 
the  clock  of  the  Reformation  struck  the  hour  of 
sunrise  in  the  moral  world  there  has  been  no  national 
change  of  creed,  and  no  important  alteration  in  the 
comparative  strength  of  different  religions.  No  re- 
spectable power  has  declared  itself  republican  and 
been  able  to  maintain  its  freedom  since  the  day 
when  our  fathers  signed  the  Declaration  of  Inde- 
pendence. And  still  all  wise  men  feel  that  we  are 
living  in  a  critical  period  of  history.  Forces  which 
have  been  slowly  gathering  for  centuries  will  soon 
reach  the  point  of  explosion.  One  heavy  jar  of  the 
atmosphere  and  the  clouds  will  break.  The  next 
fifty  years  will  have  a  history,  and  it  will  not  be 
the  dull  repetition  of  former  history.  The  waters 
will  run  in  fresh  channels.  Elements  of  influence 
will  afflict  society  which  have  hitherto  been  faintly 
recognized."  Here  I  turn  aside  for  a  moment  to 
remark  that  the  last  time  I  saw  Charles  Sumner,  he 
predicted  that  in  the  course  of  ten  years  every  mon- 
archy in  Europe  would  be  overturned  except  that 
of  England,  following  me  to  the  door,  as  I  well  recol- 
lect, and  saying  with  extreme  earnestness:  "Don't 
forget  the  prophecy  I  have  made  to-night!"  Mr. 
Sumner  has  been  dead  for  more  than  ten  years,  but 


198  REMINISCENCES. 

thus  far  France  is  the  only  country  where  his  pre- 
diction has  come  true.  "Great  men  are  not  always 
wise." — Job  xxxii.  11. 

Returning  once  more  to  my  own  attempts  at 
prophesy  as  recorded  in  the  lyceum  lecture,  I  said, 
"We  have  made  wonderful  progress  in  traveling 
facilities  within  half  a  century,  such  as  the  highest 
scientific  authorities  declared  to  be  utterly  imprac- 
ticable just  before  they  went  into  operation.  But 
these  improvements  will  not  stop  at  the  present 
point.  Posterity  will  not  be  content  to  travel  at  the 
rate  of  thirty  miles  an  hour,  seated  in  these  narrow 
cars,  stifled  with  dust  and  distracted  by  noise,  some- 
times blocked  up  by  the  snow  and  occasionally 
pitched  over  a  precipice  into  destruction.  It  costs 
no  great  effort  to  imagine  that  there  will  be,  fifty 
years  hence,  splendid  locomotive  hotels,  with  spa- 
cious parlors,  dining-rooms,  and  dormitories,  mov- 
ing gently  as  the  bird  flies  over  a  road,  carpeted 
with  turf  and  bordered  with  shade  trees  and  sweet 
shrubs,  heralding  its  approach  with  jubilant  music, 
instead  of  the  hoarse  screams  which  now  make  night 
hideous — through  from  Boston  to  San  Francisco  in 
six  days."  This  prediction  is  not  entirely  fulfilled, 
but  it  may  be  before  long.  Again,  "The  language  of 
telegraphic  signs  will  be  so  improved  that  men  will 
communicate  through  the  wire  as  rapidly  as  they 
could  by  the  tongue,"  but  of  course  I  never  dreamed 
that  they  would  actually  talk  through  the  wire. 
Once  more :  "This  electric  battery,  which,  in  some 
of  our  cities,  sounds  the  alarm  in  our  steeples,  may 
also  be  made  at  evening  to  light  all  the  street  lamps 
at    one  flash,  secure  perfect  uniformity  of  time  in 


MISCELLANIES.  1 99 

all  our  public  clocks,  kindle  the  beacon  light  on 
those  dreary  rocks  in  the  sea,  where  human  beings 
now  endure  a  melancholy  and  dangerous  solitude — 
Heavens  only  knows  what  it  may  not  do  !"  Again : 
"How  difficult  it  sometimes  is  to  make  the  ink  flow 
as  fast  as  the  thoughts!  Now  imagine  the  honored 
gentleman,  invited  to  address  your  association,  sit- 
ting down  to  prepare  his  lecture  in  the  year  1900, 
with  the  last  improved  Chirographical  machine  on 
the  table  before  him."  Type-writer  is  a  better 
name,  but  it  had  not  been  thought  of  then.  "He 
opens  the  keyboard  and  begins  to  think.  The  order 
of  his  discourse  having  been  methodized,  his  facts 
arranged,  and  his  subject  duly  digested,  the  inspira- 
tion comes  upon  him,  and  he  lays  his  fingers  pn  the 
ivory  keys.  Unconsciously  as  the  accomplished 
musician  strikes  the  note,  which  the  harmony  and 
melody  require,  does  his  hand  sweep  the  Phono- 
graphic scale,  and  fast  as  he  can  think  are  his  concep- 
tions transferred  to  paper."  I  find  that  I  here  used 
a  word  which  suggests  to  the  mind  Mr.  Edison's 
marvelous  invention,  but  any  one  who  could  have 
predicted  the  phonograph  would  have  been  compe- 
tent to  invent  it.  Bishop  Brooks  at  one  time  kept 
one  of  these  phonographs  in  his  study,  and  once  told 
me  that  on  a  Saturday  evening,  after  he  had  finished 
his  sermon,  he  thought  that  he  would  rehearse  it  in 
full  to  the  phonograph,  and  the  next  morning, 
before  going  to  church,  it  occurred  to  him  that  he 
would  like  to  know  how  his  sermon  was  going  to 
sound,  and  taking  his  seat  at  the  table,  for  this 
purpose,  ground  it  all  out  again.  The  effect,  as  he 
said,    was    most    depressing,    because   the    terrible 


200  REMINISCENCES. 

machine  brought  out  into  full  relief  all  the  coughing 
and  other  disagreeable  sounds  that  often  accompany 
preaching. 

I  will  make  but  one  further  extract  from  my  old 
lecture:  "During the  coming  fifty  years,  all  branches 
of  science  are  destined  to  make  immense  advances; 
observation,  analysis,  exploration,  will  bring  to  light 
multitudes  of  new  facts  in  every  department  of 
nature.  No  one  can  foresee  the  vast  improvements 
that  will  be  made  in  the  instruments  which  the  phil- 
osophers will  use  in  their  experiments.  Every 
month  some  mechanical  difficulty  is  overcome,  and 
he  must  be  a  foolish  man  who  ventures  at  this  date 
to  pronounce  any  physical  problem  insolvable."  It 
required  no  great  amount  of  wisdom  to  say  this,  and 
now  my  lecture  must  go  back  to  the  drawer, 
where  it  has  so  long  reposed,  never  to  be  disturbed 
again,  until  it  is  laid  with  its  numerous  associates  on 
the  funeral  pyre.  Before  that  comes,  I  will  take 
one  final  look  at  the  other  manuscripts  of  the  same 
sort  which  lie  in  the  same  drawer,  and  here  is  a  list 
of  them,  as  they  happen  to  lie:  "Improvement  and 
Adornment  of  Cities;"  "Laws  of  Periodic  Rest;" 
"The  World  Moves;"  "The  Seen  and  the  Unseen;" 
"Inventions  of  the  Age;"  "Analogy  of  Mechanics 
and  Morals;"  "Washington  and  Military  Arma- 
ments;" "University  Life;"  "African  Coloniza- 
tion;" "Female  Education;"  "The  Problem  of 
Evil;"  "The  Wars  of  Peru;"  "Words  Expressive  of 
Motion  in  Space;"  "The  National  Crisis;"  "Habits 
of  American  Life;"  "Tendencies  of  American 
Thoughts;"  "Life  in  Boston  Two  Hundred  Years 
Ago;"  "Photographs  of  Europe,  or,  the  Old  World 


MISCELLANIES.  20I 

and  the  New;"  "The  Living  Machine."  The  last 
lecture  was  delivered  350  times.  I  have  no  record 
of  addresses,  sermons,  reviews,  etc.,  which  have 
appeared  in  print.  So  far  as  I  know,  they  have 
"vanished  into  air — thin  air,"  from  whence  most  of 
them  came. 

Nearly  all  the  material  improvements  in  our 
domestic  and  social  life,  which  characterize  the  age, 
have  come  into  being  within  my  memory.  They  are 
very  familiar  and  a  recapitulation  of  these  changes 
in  detail  would  be  dull  reading.  A  few  personal 
reminiscences,  however,  may  serve  to  give  a  little 
freshness  to  a  very  trite  subject. 

During  my  college  days  the  easiest  and'  shortest 
way  of  getting  from  Boston  to  New  Haven  was  to 
take  the  five  o'clock  morning  stage-coach  to  Provi- 
dence, where  we  arrived  about  noonday,  and  were 
transferred  to  one  of  the  primitive  steamboats  that 
plied  on  the  Sound.  I  wish  that  one  of  these  vessels 
could  have  been  preserved,  so  that  the  people  who 
have  recently  come  upon  the  stage  could  see  what,  at 
the  time,  we  supposed  to  be  the  grandest  maritime 
structure  that  could  be  imagined.  The  next  fore- 
noon we  took  another  steamer  back  to  New 
Haven,  reaching  the  city  toward  night.  The  only 
alternative  was  a  three  days  drive  over  a  rough 
road,  stopping  over  night  at  Worcester  and 
Hartford.  The  journey  is  now  accomplished  in 
four  hours. 

I  well  remember  the  first  box  of  the  new  matches 
that  I  bought,  with  a  little  bottle  in  the  bottom,  in 
which  the  match  was  to  be  dipped  and  suddenly 
withdrawn,  whether  it  ignited  or  not,  as  it  might  hap- 


202  REMINISCENCES. 

pen.  I  remember  going  to  see  the  wonderful  sight 
of  a  hall  lighted  with  gas — admission  twenty-five 
cents,  and  have  read  the  petition  of  Mr.  Horace 
Binney  and  other  distinguished  citizens  of  Philadel- 
phia, addressed  to  the  city  authorities,  protesting 
against  the  introduction  of  gas,  as  it  would  be  almost 
certain  to  breed  pestilence,  destroy  vegetation,  kill 
the  birds,  and  prove  in  various  other  ways  to  be  a 
nuisance.  I  can  also  recall  the  day  when  the  first 
load  of  anthracite  coal  made  its  appearance,  and  how 
I  carried  home  a  few  pieces  to  test  them  in  the  wal- 
nut fire  and  see  if  they  could  really  be  made  to  burn, 
and  then  how  after  a  while  the  cheerful  old  wood 
fires  went  out  and  much  of  the  poetry  of  life  went 
out  with  them,  or  at  least  the  material  of  poetry,  for 
even  Browning  could  not  sing  of  grates  and  registers 
and  furnaces  and  steam  heaters  as  the  old  poets 
used  to  sing  of  the  hearthstone  and  the  household 
fires,  and  the  cheerful  evening  blaze  and  the  solemn 
curfew. 

Many  years  have  passed  since  I  went  to  the  Tre- 
mont  House  one  morning  to  see  a  few  strange  pic- 
tures on  metal  plates,  sent  over  here  for  exhibition 
from  France  by  a  Monsieur  Daguerre,  said  to  have 
been  made  by  the  sun  itself,  rather  faint  and  indis- 
tinct but  still  indicating  the  dawn  of  a  new  and 
most  wonderful  art.  The  introduction  of  water 
into  our  houses  reminds  me  of  the  cold  mornings, 
when  I  had  to  go  out  with  my  birch  basin  and  break 
the  ice  in  a  pond  for  water  to  wash  with,  and  this 
when  I  was  only  ten  years  old ;  not,  I  would  say,  in 
my  own  father's  house,  but  at  one  of  those  awful 
boarding  schools,  to  which  even  Dickens  has  hardly 


MISCELLANIES.  203 

done  full  justice,  for  I  could  tell  of  horrors  as  great 
as  those  which  he  describes. 

It  was  a  day  of  rejoicing  when  the  first  India- 
rubber  shoe  appeared,  clumsy  and  ugly  enough,  but 
true  solid  rubber,  and  not  a  second-hand  coating  as 
we  have  them  now.  All  that  we  knew  of  India- 
rubber  before  that  was  the  two  cent  bits  that  are 
bought  at  the  stationers  for  the  purpose  of  rubbing 
out  pencil  marks,  which  I  presume  accounts  for  the 
singular  name  given  to  this  extraordinary  substance. 

The  storing  of  ice  for  consumption  in  the  summer 
was  another  interesting  event  of  the  same  period. 
Mr.  Tudor  of  Boston  was  the  pioneer  in  the  busi- 
ness of  exporting  ice  to  other  countries,  and  having 
heard  what  I  considered  a  very  absurd  story  in  con- 
nection with  this,  I  once  asked  him  if  there  was  any 
foundation  for  it.  He  said  that  the  facts  were  these : 
"One  summer  he  had  a  contract  to  supply  some  of 
the  West  India  Islands  with  ice,  and  on  account  of 
the  mildness  of  the  winter  the  supply  had  failed. 
One  of  his  enterprising  captains  suggested  the 
thought  of  laying  siege  to  some  accessible  iceberg 
and  transferring  such  portions  of  it  as  might  be 
needed  to  his  vessel.  Mr.  Tudor  told  him  that  if 
he  saw  fit  to  try  the  experiment  he  was  welcome  to 
do  so.  Accordingly  the  captain  started  off,  and  after 
sailing  about  for  a  while  found  a  small  berg,  which 
he  thought  would  serve  his  purpose,  and  having 
moored  his  vessel  at  the  side,  proceeded  to  transport 
the  blocks  of  ice  to  the  hold.  Everything  went  on 
smoothly  enough  until  one  day  when  the  iceberg 
shifted  its  position,  having  lost  its  equilibrium  in 
consequence  of  the  inroads  by  the  ice  cutters,  lifting 


204  REMINISCENCES. 

the  vessel  a  little  out  of  the  water  as  it  went  over, 
but  doing  no  great  damage.  After  this  the  captain 
took  his  position  a  little  further  off,  and  transferred 
the  remainder  of  the  cargo  in  longboats.  The  adven- 
ture did  not  prove  to  be  very  profitable,  as  the  ice 
turned  out  to  be  of  little  value. 

Of  the  marvels  which  have  come  into  being  dur- 
ing the  present  generation,  I  have  very  little  to 
say.  Gunpowder,  alas!  has  given  way  to  dynamite; 
whale  oil  and  tallow  to  electricity;  trees  are  made 
into  paper;  horses  superseded  by  dynamos — rail- 
ways run  underground  and  up  in  the  air;  a  city 
rivaling  Athens  in  its  outward  splendor  springs  up  in 
a  day  and  vanishes  by  fire  in  a  night ;  Niagara  is 
subsidized  to  furnish  a  new  motive  power;  pins,  and 
screws,  and  horseshoes,  and  files,  and  watches,  and 
all  sorts  of  fabrics  manufacture  themselves;  clay  is 
converted  into  a  magical  metal,  impervious  to  rust, 
and  light  as  wood  ;  coal-tar  into  perfumes  and  flavors 
and  aniline  colors;  a  little  box  on  the  table  will 
talk  and  sing  and  give  concerts  and  toll  midnight 
chimes ;  flash  lights  brighten  the  horizon  scores  of 
miles  away;  mean  little  torpedoes  creep  under  the 
water  and  send  noble  frigates  flying  in  the  air;  the 
most  frightful  operations  in  surgery  are  performed 
while  the  patient  is  in  elysium — gigantic  presses 
throw  off  the  printed  sheets  as  fast  as  the  leaves 
fall  in  autumn  ;  conversation  goes  on  without  regard 
to  distance  in  space ;  sad  and  joyful  messages  are 
all  the  while  traveling  with  lightning  speed  across 
the  bottom  of  the  ocean ;  storms  are  predicted 
before  their  time;  farming  is  done  by  machinery; 
columns  of  descending  water  are  so  directed  as  to 


MISCELLANIES.  205 

scatter  the  hills  and  reveal  the  precious  gold  hidden 
there;  suns  and  planets  are  analyzed;  the  photo- 
graph brings  stars  to  light,  never  looked  upon 
before  ;  the  microscope  shows  us  where  our  diseases 
come  from ;  the  telescope  brings  us  almost  within 
hailing  distance  with  the  moon,  and  the  end  is  not 
yet. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

BISHOP   BROOKS. 

I  HAD  no  intimate  acquaintance  with  Phillips 
Brooks  until  the  last  six  or  eight  years  of  his  life, 
but  during  this  period  his  house  has  been  to  me  as 
a  home,  and  the  last  words  that  I  heard  him  say 
were  these:  "Now  solemnly  promise  that  you  will 
never  again  go  anywhere  else  to  stay,  when  you 
come  to  Boston,  as  long  as  you  live."  I  little 
thought  that  within  a  month  from  that  time  he 
would  have  found  his  home  in  another  world. 
Many  and  many  a  time  have  I  sat  alone  with  him 
"in  the  dead  waste  and  middle  of  the  night,"  which 
he  made  full  and  bright  with  his  instructive  talk, 
telling  of  the  strange  things  he  had  seen  in  foreign 
lands,  his  experiences  in  the  remote  regions  of 
India,  his  visits  to  the  various  missionary  stations  of 
the  English  and  American  Churches — which,  he  said, 
had  impressed  him  most  deeply  with  the  conviction 
of  their  importance  and  usefulness,  discussing  men 
and  books  and  church  affairs — rarely,  if  ever,  allud- 
ing to  himself  personally,  and  never  in  any  way 
indicating  that  he  had  any  consciousness  of  being 
separate  from  his  brethren,  as  a  leader  and  com- 
mander of  the  people.  It  was  necessary  to  know 
him  somewhat  intimately  before  he  was  inclined  to 
give  free  vent  to  his  thoughts,  and  for  this  reason 

206 


BISHOP   BROOKS.  20/ 

some  persons  regarded  him  as  reserved  and  uncon- 
genial. He  was  not  a  man  whom  it  was  easy  to 
praise  to  his  face,  but  I  have  more  than  once  said  to 
him  that  I  did  not  think  he  deserved  much  credit 
for  what  he  did,  because  it  seemed  to  cost  him  no 
effort,  and  he  could  do  spontaneously  that  which 
would  cost  another  man  much  toil  and  study.  He 
has  told  me,  however,  that  he  never  liked  to  speak  in 
public  unless  he  had  some  time  for  preparation,  and 
that  while  he  wrote  his  sermons — if  he  did  write 
them — as  rapidly  as  his  pen  could  move,  he  was 
accustomed  to  carry  the  sermon  around  with  him  in 
his  mind  and  brood  over  it  for  several  days.  So  far 
as  the  style  of  his  composition  was  concerned,  I 
think  it  was  entirely  spontaneous  and  took  care  of 
itself. 

It  was  always  a  mystery  how  he  could  manage  to 
accomplish  the  vast  amount  of  work  that  he  did  with 
his  pen,  in  view  of  the  incessant  interruptions  to 
which  he  was  subjected.  He  made  it  a  rule  to 
answer  every  letter  that  he  received,  let  it  come 
from  whatever  quarter  it  might,  and  let  the  subject 
be  what  it  might — even  all  the  begging  letters  which 
poured  in  upon  him  like  a  flood — not  always  favor- 
ably of  course,  if  they  had  been  there  would  not  have 
been  much  left  for  him  to  live  upon.  An  elderly 
Quaker  in  a  Rhode  Island  village  once  showed 
me  a  letter  he  had  received  from  Bishop  Brooks,  in 
reply  to  one  that  he  had  written  asking  for  the 
bishop's  views  as  to  the  future  state,  in  which  the 
writer  was  advised  to  do  all  that  he  could  to  prepare 
himself  for  the  next  stage  of  existence,  instead  of 
speculating   about  it.      On  the    morning   after   his 


2o8  REMINISCENCES. 

election  to  the  bishopric  a  single  mail  brought  more 
than  a  hundred  letters,  and  I  presume  they  were  all 
answered  in  the  course  of  three  or  four  days.  From 
morning  till  night,  and  sometimes  late  into  the  night, 
his  house  was  thronged  with  visitors,  and  he  never 
turned  any  one  away,  although  at  times  he  may  have 
resorted  to  innocent  devices  to  abbreviate  the  visits 
of  those  persons,  who,  when  they  are  once  seated, 
appear  to  find  it  very  difficult  to  get  up  again,  and 
sometimes  continue  until  it  seems  to  be  impossible 
that  they  should  ever  leave. 

Bishop  Brooks  was  a  rigid  judge  of  men,  and  some- 
times expressed  himself  with  great  freedom  in  regard 
to  certain  persons  whom  he  regarded  as  unreal  and 
untrue, — defects  of  character  for  which  he  had  little 
forbearance, — while  he  spoke  with  great  respect  of 
some  of  his  brethren  who  had  crossed  his  track,  on 
the  ground  that  he  believed  in  their  sincerity  and 
could  not  deny  them  the  same  freedom  of  opinion 
that  he  claimed  for  himself.  In  the  midst  of  the 
fiery  battle  that  assailed  him  after  his  election  in 
Massachusetts,  he  said  to  me  one  day:  "After  all, 
they  have  let  me  off  pretty  easily;  as  yet  I  have 
never  been  charged  with  breaking  either  the  sixth  ^ 
or  seventh  or  the  eighth  commandments."  He 
rarely  alluded  to  the  attacks  made  upon  him  in  the 
Church  papers,  some  of  which  were  very  insolent ; 
they  "passed  by  him  like  the  idle  wind  which  he 
esteemed  not."  Although  he  was  not  a  regularly 
trained  ecclesiastical  pugilist,  he  could  hold  his  own 
in  an  extremity,  and  it  is  easy  to  conceive  of  him  as 
talking  to  St.  Peter  very  much  as  St.  Paul  did  when 
he  thought  he  was  to  be  blamed. 


BISHOP  BROOKS.  209 

In  all  the  details  of  life  he  was  singularly  scrupu- 
lous, and  never  allowed  any  duty  to  be  slighted  or 
deferred,  however  trifling  it  might  be.  Whatever 
could  be  done  to-day  must  not  be  put  off  till  the 
morrow.  He  never  seemed  to  forget  anything,  and 
was  at  the  beck  and  call  of  everybody  for  every 
sort  of  thing,  and  he  was  ready  to  do  a  great  many 
things  which  he  was  not  under  the  slightest  obliga- 
tion to  do.  He  was  careful  in  regard  to  all  the  little 
attentions  that  people  expected  of  him,  and  never 
inclined  to  transfer  a  disagreeable  thing  to  others  in 
order  to  save  himself  trouble.  Some  years  ago, 
while  he  was  abroad,  I  took  his  place  in  Trinity 
Church  on  a  Christmas  day,  and  just  before  the  hour 
of  service  a  message  of  Christmas  greeting  from  the 
rector  to  his  congregation  was  handed  in,  dated 
that  morning  in  some  remote  Asiatic  town.  He 
told  me  afterward  that  it  was  a  genuine  thing;  find- 
ing that  he  had  the  advantage  of  several  hours  on 
account  of  the  difference  of  longitude,  he  was  up 
early  enough  in  the  morning  to  send  that  message 
by  the  wires  to  Boston  in  season  for  the  service,  and 
it  was  accordingly  read  to  the  people  before  the 
sermon.  This  certainly  was  a  novel  event  in  the 
history  of  the  world,  and  of  course  a  few  years  ago 
it  would  have  been  simply  unbelievable. 

The  extraordinary  hold  he  had  upon  the  com- 
munity was  attributable  to  his  personal  qualities, 
as  well  as  his  intellectual  face.  He  might  have 
swayed  the  minds  of  men  by  his  marvelous  words, 
but  he  could  never  have  got  the  hold  he  had  upon 
their  hearts  if  he  had  been  nothing  but  a  great 
preacher.     His  influence  reached  all  classes  and  con- 


2IO  REMINISCENCES. 

ditions  of  men,  and  was  as  strong  outside  the  pale 
of  the  Church  as  it  was  within.  It  has  been  said  by 
one  of  the  great  writers  of  the  age  that  "theology 
is  singularly  tardy  in  its  justice,  and  a  fame  locked 
up  in  theology  is  scarcely  more  hopeful  than  an 
estate  locked  up  in  chancery."  This  was  not  true 
in  the  case  of  Phillips  Brooks.  In  a  letter  received 
from  Dr.  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes,  dated  March  31, 
1893,  referring  to  the  text  of  the  memorial  sermon 
that  I  preached  at  Cambridge  soon  after  the  bishop's 
death,  he  writes:  "In  all  the  riches  of  the  Scripture 
treasury  you  could  hardly  find  another  so  appro- 
priate." This  was  the  text,  taken  from  the  prophecy 
of  Jeremiah :  "All  ye  that  are  about  him,  bemoan 
him ;  and  all  ye  that  know  his  name  say,  how  is  the 
strong  staff  broken,  and  the  beautiful  rod !"  Dr. 
Holmes  then  goes  on  to  say :  *Tt  was  a  very  seri- 
ous office  to  which  you  felt  yourself  called,  for  you 
had  to  deal  with  a  character  which  I  believe  is  to 
stand  as  the  ideal  minister  of  the  American  gospel, 
which  is  the  Old  World  gospel  shaped — as  all  gospels 
are  by  their  interpreters — by  the  influences  of  our 
American  civilization.  If  now  St.  Gaudens  will  give 
us  a  statue  worthy  of  the  great  preacher  and  noble 
man,  our  country  type  of  a  religious  ideal  will  be 
completed  for  the  ages  which  are  to  follow  us." 
During  the  time  of  his  great  trial,  when  the  ques- 
tion was  pending  whether  such  a  man  as  Phillips 
Brooks  was  worthy  to  have  a  seat  in  the  House  of 
Bishops,  I  was  frequently  at  his  house  and  in  some- 
what active  correspondence  with  him,  and  although 
he  must  have  had  his  anxious  hours,  there  was  some- 
thing  wonderful    in   his   calm    serenity   and    faith 


BISHOP   BROOKS.  211 

through  it  all,  and  the  noble  persistency  with  which 
he  always  held  me  back  from  saying  anything  to 
refute  the  charges  of  unsoundness  in  the  faith 
urged  against  him  I  have  since  learned  to  admire, 
although  I  was  restive  under  it  at  the  time.  On 
the  morning  when  the  Massachusetts  Convention 
were  to  elect  their  bishop,  I  said  to  him  that  there 
was  little  prospect  of  his  having  a  majority  of  the 
votes,  and  he  replied  that  he  had  no  doubt  about  it, 
"but,"  he  added,  "if  I  am  not  elected  this  morning, 
I  am  ready  to  go  into  the  Convention  this  afternoon 
and  vote  for  the  other  candidate.  Dr.  Satterlee  will 
be  entirely  satisfactory  to  me."  It  may  be  that  it 
is  a  violation  of  confidence  to  mention  this,  but  I 
am  impelled  to  do  so  because  it  shows  how  free 
from  anything  like  party  prejudice  the  man  was. 

Phillips  Brooks  had  a  passion  for  city  life,  and  liked 
to  be  surrounded  by  his  fellow-creatures  and  see 
them  in  crowds,  as  he  was  accustomed  to  do,  while 
he  took  no  great  interest  in  country  life.  This 
might  have  been  because  he  had  no  experience  of 
such  a  life  in  his  earlier  years,  and  still  he  must  have 
been  in  very  close  sympathy  with  nature  in  all  its 
varied  aspects,  as  may  be  seen  in  his  abundant  illus- 
trations drawn  from  natural  objects.  When  he  was 
in  the  country  he  liked  to  see  things  in  their  natural 
state  and  did  not  care  much  for  ornamental  garden- 
ing. As  we  were  sitting  one  day  on  the  piazza  of 
the  old  family  mansion  in  North  Andover,  a  profes- 
sional artist  made  his  appearance  and  began  to  com- 
ment upon  the  rude  condition  of  the  grounds  and 
suggest  what  an  improvement  it  would  be  to  remove 
this  and  that  old  tree  and   introduce   flowers  and 


212  REMINISCENCES. 

shrubbery  here  and  there,  and  it  was  amusing  to 
see  how  resolutely  the  bishop  resisted  him  step  by 
step,  declaring  that  he  preferred  the  old  stumps  and 
the  tangled  bushes  and  everything  else  that  was 
old  about  the  place  to  any  of  these  modern  improve- 
ments, until  the  crushed  man  gave  it  up  in  despair 
and  retired.  Phillips  Brooks  was  certainly  very  con- 
servative in  this  direction.* 

It  is  as  a  preacher  that  Bishop  Brooks  holds  the 
most  conspicuous  place.  I  shrink  from  the  attempt 
to  describe  his  preaching.  It  is  as  difficult  to  do 
this  as  it  would  be  to  reproduce  in  words  the  varied 
impressions  made  by  the  harmonies  of  a  grand 
orchestra.  I  was  once  asked  to  write  a  chapter  for 
a  book  and  give  "the  bottom  line"  of  his  theology. 
I  would  as  soon  think  of  trying  to  fathom  the 
bottom  line  of  the  ocean,  or  to  analyze  the  highest 
strata  of  the  atmosphere.  He  was  not  a  man  to  be 
measured  by  any  conventional  rules.  There  is  no 
other  preacher  with  whom  he  can  be  compared. 
He  copied  no  one,  and  no  one  could  copy  him  to 
advantage.  Few  preachers  have  ever  drawn  upon 
themselves  as  persistently  as  he  did ;  and  so  some 
have  said  that  he  was  not  a  learned  man,  because 
his  sermons  were  so  free  from  technicalities,  and 
so  sparing  in  citations  from  the  Fathers  and  other 
ancient  authors. 

It  is  easy  to  say  in  what  he  was  deficient.  He 
dealt  little  in  the  logical  analysis  of  doctrines  and 

*  The  remainder  of  this  article  is  taken  from  a  discourse  delivered 
in  Cambridge,  soon  after  the  death  of  Bishop  Brooks,  before  the 
officers  and  students  of  Harvard  University  and  the  Episcopal  Theo- 
logical School. 


BISHOP   BROOKS.  213 

took  no  special  interest  in  taking  intricate  dogmas 
to  pieces  and  then  putting  them  skillfully  together 
again.  There  was  not  much  of  formal  argument  in 
his  discourse ;  he  could  reason  very  ably  when  he 
had  occasion  to  do  so,  but  in  his  ordinary  preaching 
he  seemed  to  feel  as  if  he  had  more  important  work 
to  do;  he  did  not  think  that  the  kingdom  of  heaven 
could  be  taken  by  logic.  To  all  appearances,  he  was 
not  so  much  bent  upon  communicating  his  own 
thoughts  to  others  as  he  was  in  trying  to  kindle  into 
a  blaze  the  latent  sparks  of  good  which  he  believed 
existed  in  every  man's  heart. 

He  was  not  by  any  means  what  is  popularly  under- 
stood by  the  term  an  eloquent  speaker.  He  had 
no  arts  of  elocution,  but  rather  trampled  them 
under  foot — his  great  desire  seeming  to  be  just  to 
get  his  thoughts  uttered  and  brought  home  to  the 
apprehension  of  his  hearers;  for  which,  however,  he 
hardly  allowed  sufificient  time.  He  did  attain  that 
at  which  eloquence  aims — the  rapt  attention  of 
crowded  congregations,  the  quick  response  of  hearts, 
which  could  not  help  vibrating  with  his  heart,  what- 
ever key  he  struck — the  rousing  of  dormant  suscepti- 
bilities, drowsy  resolutions,  exhausted  spiritual 
forces — unlocking  doors  in  the  soul  which  had  long 
been  closed  and  which  the  man  did  not  wish  to  have 
opened,  because  of  what  might  be  revealed — con- 
vincing men  of  sins  which  they  had  never  fairly 
apprehended  before,  and  at  the  same  time  disclosing 
to  them  capacities  for  good  which  had  never  been 
quickened  into  action. 

Some  have  thought  that  he  was  not,  in  the  old- 
fashioned  sense  of  the  term,  a  searching  preacher. 


214  REMINISCENCES. 

However  this  may  be,  he  certainly  threw  a  flood  of 
light  into  recesses  of  the  human  heart  that  are  not 
often  disclosed,  bringing  into  terrible  relief  a  multi- 
tude of  errors  and  weaknesses  and  dishonesties  and 
meannesses,  of  which  little  note  is  usually  taken. 
The  building  up  from  the  beginning  of  a  holy, 
healthy,  vigorous,  well-balanced  Christian  character 
was  the  great  end  at  which  he  aimed.  He  once  said 
to  me  that  he  thought  we  had  very  defective  views 
of  what  salvation  means.  With  him,  it  meant  the 
saving  of  the  soul  from  sin,  rather  than  deliverance 
from  the  punishment  of  sin ;  and  in  order  to  the 
establishment  of  a  wholesome  Christian  life,  he 
relied  more  upon  a  sound  spiritual  regimen  than  he 
did  upon  the  administration  of  medicine. 

If  Bishop  Brooks  did  not  dwell  upon  the  terrors  of 
the  law  as  fervidly  as  Jonathan  Edwards  was  accus- 
tomed to  do,  it  was  not  because  he  shrank  from 
declaring  the  whole  counsel  of  God.  No  one  could 
be  bolder  in  denouncing  the  sins  which  are  most 
likely  to  be  lost  sight  of  and  condoned,  the  sins  of 
which  the  persons  he  addressed  were  most  likely  to 
be  guilty.  Every  sermon  seemed  to  have  for  its 
object  the  awakening  of  some  higher  aspiration  in 
man,  accompanied  by  the  necessary  extinguishment 
of  some  debasing  tendency.  He  may  not  have 
occupied  himself  as  much  as  some  others  in  the  por- 
traiture of  sin  and  its  terrible  results,  it  was  his  way 
to  exterminate  the  noxious  weeds  by  such  careful 
culture  and  preoccupation  of  the  soil  as  would  leave 
no  room  for  the  weeds  to  grow. 

He  dealt  almost  exclusively  with  positive  truths, 
and  had  little  to  say  in  the  pulpit   about   heresies 


BISHOP   BROOKS.  21$ 

and  biblical  criticisms  and  disputed  dogmas  and 
ecclesiastical  expedients.  He  went  directly  to  the 
reason  and  conscience  and  hearts  of  those  whom 
he  addressed,  revealed  them  to  themselves,  making 
them  shudder  at  some  things  which  were  disclosed, 
and  long  to  find  some  way  of  escape.  It  was  thus 
that  he  preached  Christ  to  them — not  always  per- 
haps in  the  accredited  form,  but  he  brought  the 
Saviour  close  home  to  them,  so  that  they  could  see 
Him  and  feel  the  touch  of  His  healing  hand  and 
apprehend  the  power  of  His  cross,  in  such  a  way  as 
to  lead  them  to  take  up  the  cross  and  follow  Him. 
And  all  this  time  we  could  not  help  feeling  that  he 
was  not  discharging  a  new  official  duty,  repeating 
something  what  had  been  prepared  to  order,  but 
that  he  was  uttering  himself,  giving  you  the  spon- 
taneous impulses  of  his  own  being.  How  often  I  have 
heard  him  say,  "I  love  to  preach  I  "  and  no  wonder 
that  he  did,  the  wonder  with  the  listener  was,  where 
all  these  thoughts  came  from;  for  there  was  such  a 
spontaneity  in  his  utterance  as  to  make  it  seem  as  if 
he  couldn't  help  himself.  There  was  a  profuseness 
in  the  freedom  with  which  he  scattered  his  thoughts 
and  threw  off  his  illustrations  which  seemed  to  be 
almost  wasteful. 

It  was  often  very  difficult  to  guess  what  was  com- 
ing when  he  gave  out  his  text,  but  as  he  went  on  he 
would  extract  meanings  from  it  and  find  suggestions 
in  it  of  which  no  one  else  would  have  dreamed  ;  and 
yet,  as  he  proceeded,  the  hearer  felt  as  if  these 
suggestions  were  natural  and  obvious  enough.  It 
hardly  needs  to  be  said  that  he  presented  few  color- 
less thoughts.     He  was  not  specially  rhetorical,  his 


2l6  REMINISCENCES. 

sermons  were  not  overburdened  with  imagery — he 
never  dragged  in  an  image  for  the  sake  of  exhibiting 
its  beauty;  but  all  that  he  said  was  iridescent,  so 
that  his  discourse,  although  it  might  not  be  distinctly 
pictorial,  left  the  vivid  impression  of  a  picture  on 
the  mind.  His  illustrations  were  drawn  almost  en- 
tirely from  nature,  rarely  from  history,  hardly  ever 
from  science,  and  never  from  the  old  patent  stock  of 
figures  which  is  such  an  unfailing  resource  to  most  of 
us.  For  the  drapery  of  his  thoughts  he  found  his 
material  in  the  ocean,  with  all  its  suggestions  of 
majesty  and  might — in  the  sky,  with  its  ever-shut- 
ting clouds  and  radiant  sunsets — in  the  earth,  with 
its  hills  and  valleys  and  silver  streams  and  nestling 
hamlets.  Every  sound  in  nature  helped  to  give 
some  musical  tone  to  his  thoughts, — the  thunder  and 
the  storm,  the  sighing  of  the  breeze,  the  singing  of 
the  birds  in  spring-time,  the  rustle  of  the  corn-field, — 
all  were  to  him  God's  symbols,  God's  language, 
and  he  used  them  all  to  give  life  and  freshness  to 
the  mighty  spiritual  truths  which  he  was  called  to 
proclaim. 

His  teachings  revolved  invariably  about  this  as 
their  center:  "We  are  all  God's  children,  and  God 
cares  for  all  the  creatures  that  He  ever  made,  and 
is  waiting  for  those  all  to  come  to  Him.  He  is 
ready  to  receive  them  whenever  they  are  willing  to 
return.  He  took  upon  Himself  our  nature  and 
appeared  in  the  form  of  a  man,  in  order  to  show  us 
what  sort  of  a  life  we  should  lead,  and  He  died  upon 
a  cross  to  secure  our  salvation."  This  was,  in  a  word, 
the  substance  of  his  theology,  and  somehow  he 
managed  to  make  it  equally  impressive  whether  he 


BISHOP   BROOKS.  21/ 

was  addressing  the  rudest  or  the  most  cultivated 
audience,  whether  he  was  preaching  to  the  scholarly- 
elect  in  Harvard  or  to  the  Sunday  night  grimy 
crowds  in  some  public  hall.  He  never  preached  a 
grander  sermon  than  one  that  he  delivered  in  Boston 
years  ago  to  a  great  mass  of  men  and  women, 
gathered  from  the  slums  and  all  the  dreariest  parts 
of  the  city,  to  hear  what  he  had  to  tell  them  about 
God.  They  must  have  felt,  for  once  in  their  lives, 
that  there  was  someone  in  the  universe  who  cared 
for  them. 

If  Bishop  Brooks  had  been  called  upon  to  define 
in  a  word  the  basis  of  his  belief,  he  might  have  said, 
"I  believe  that  the  life  is  the  light  of  men,  that  the 
final  argument  for  Christianity  is  to  be  found  in  the 
witness  of  our  spirits  to  God's  Spirit,  the  conformity 
of  the  Gospel  to  our  spiritual  needs — our  best  and 
highest  instincts;  and  when  we  come  to  feel  that  we 
cannot  live  to  any  good  purpose  except  as  we  live  in 
Christ,  that  is  enough — then  we  can  say  'One  thing 
I  know,  that,  whereas  I  was  blind,  now  I  see;  the 
light  has  come  to  me,  and  it  could  have  come  only 
from  a  divine,  superhuman  source.'  " 

From  the  beginning,  Phillips  Brooks  has  stood  as 
the  most  conspicuous  leader  of  what  may  properly 
enough  be  called  the  experimental  school  of  thought 
— in  other  words,  of  a  religion  founded  upon  experi- 
ence. He  was  an  apostle  of  light  and  love  and 
liberty,  and  it  was  his  great  aim  to  bring  men  into 
such  actual  sympathy  with  Christ  as  to  make  it 
impossible  that  they  should  ever  be  disturbed  by 
any  open  or  covert  attacks  of  infidelity,  any  ques- 
tionings of  biblical  criticism,  or  any  false  assump- 


2l8  REMINISCENCES. 

tions  on  the  part  of  the  proposed  defenders  of  the 
faith.  He  wished  that  men  should  know  the  truth 
by  experiencing  the  truth,  which,  as  I  have  already 
said,  is  what  is  meant  by  experimental  religion ;  and 
that  is  the  kind  of  religion  which  gets  the  strongest 
hold  upon  the  soul,  and  lifts  it  most  effectually  out 
of  the  reach  of  heresy  and  unbelief. 

The  general  impression  left  upon  the  mind  by 
his  preaching  was  somewhat  peculiar.  There  is  a 
style  of  preaching,  with  which  we  were  once  very 
familiar,  that  seemed  as  it  were  to  have  the  soil 
burned  over;  it  scorched  the  sinner,  very  possibly  to 
his  advantage,  just  as  the  rank  grass  and  stubble  in 
a  field  must  be  destroyed  by  fire  before  the  ground 
is  fit  to  be  plowed  and  sown.  This,  however,  was 
not  his  special  mission.  He  did  not  wring  the  soul, 
as  our  severer  preachers  were  wont  to  do  ;  with  him 
"  the  consuming  fire,"  of  which  we  read  as  one  of 
the  attributes  of  God,  was  the  fire  that  burned  out 
the  dross,  purified  the  soul,  and  consumed  the  evil 
that  dwelt  there.  The  feeling  that  impressed  itself 
upon  the  mind  most  forcibly,  as  we  heard  him 
preach,  was  something  like  this :  *'  What  a  great 
thing  it  is  to  exist !  What  a  grand  thing  existence 
may  be  made !  What  capacities  for  good  I  must 
have  which  have  never  been  developed  !  How  much 
I  must  have  lost !  I  never  knew  before  how  much 
I  owe  to  God.  I  never  felt  before  how  much  Jesus 
has  done  for  me.  Is  it  too  late  for  me  to  turn? 
The  preachers  say  that  God  is  waiting  for  me.  1 
will  arise  and  go  to  my  Father,  and  tell  Him  I  have 
sinned  and  ask  Him  to  take  me  home."  Thousands 
upon  thousands  have  felt  all  this,  and  it  is  only  in 


BISHOP   BROOKS.  219 

eternity  that  we  shall  know  what  the  harvest  is. 
And  he  keeps  on  preaching  in  this  fashion,  now  that 
his  body  sleeps  in  silence,  and  multitudes  of  people 
find  in  his  sermons  the  food  that  nourishes  them. 
They  do  not  go  to  these  sermons  for  the  solution  of 
critical  difficulties,  or  the  exposition  of  controverted 
doctrines,  or  for  information  in  Jewish  history ;  but 
they  go  to  be  fed,  to  be  built  up  in  faith  and  love 
and  devotion  and  holiness,  to  find  out  what  the 
mean  things  are  that  are  to  be  avoided,  and  what 
the  grand  things  are  which  are  to  be  sought  after — 
they  go  there  for  their  daily  bread. 

Bishop  Brooks  was  not  in  any  sense  a  partisan. 
He  could  see  the  good  in  every  system  of  theology, 
if  there  was  any  good  there,  and  also  the  bad,  if 
there  happened  to  be  anything  bad  there.  It  would 
have  been  impossible  for  him  to  move  within  narrow 
lines — in  a  road  so  narrow  as  not  to  allow  room 
enough  to  turn  aside  in  order  to  allow  one  to  pass 
who  happened  to  be  going  the  other  way.  In  his 
view  the  value  of  truth  was  to  be  estimated  by  what 
it  could  do  for  man.  The  nature  of  his  mind  was 
such  as  led  him  to  look  upon  forms  and  institutions 
with  reference  to  the  spiritual  work  which  they  were 
likely  to  accomplish.  He  loved  the  Church  because 
it  was  Christ's  great  instrument  for  the  elevation  of 
humanity.  He  loved  the  Episcopal  Church  because 
of  its  breadth  and  comprehensiveness,  because  of 
its  sedate  and  solemn  services,  because  of  its  simple 
and  efficient  discipline,  because  it  rests  *'  upon  the 
foundation  of  the  apostles  and  prophets,  Jesus 
Christ  Himself  being  the  chief  corner-stone."  His 
views  of  the  Christian  ministry  were,  in  the  main, 


220  REMINISCENCES. 

those  which  prevailed  in  the  earlier  days  of  the 
Anglican  communion,  and  also,  for  the  most  part, 
in  the  earlier  days  of  the  American  Episcopate.  He 
believed  in  the  Episcopal  office,  or  he  would  never 
have  consented  to  assume  the  vows  of  the  Episco- 
pate ;  he  was  too  honest  a  man  for  that.  It  does 
not  follow  that  he  believed  in  it  on  the  ground 
which  some  of  his  brethren  regard  as  indispensable 
to  its  existence.  It  is  hardly  conceivable  that  a 
mind  like  his  could  have  been  very  much  absorbed 
in  certain  matters  of  ritual  and  ceremonial  which 
have  such  a  singular  interest  to  minds  differently 
constituted. 

This  great  man  had  all  the  tenderness  of  a  child ; 
there  was  no  personal  sacrifice  that  he  was  not  ready 
to  make,  no  humblest  office  that  he  was  not  willing 
to  discharge  whenever  he  saw  that  his  services  were 
needed.  I  would  want  no  gentler  hand  in  sickness, 
and  no  softer  voice  to  soothe  me  in  the  hour  of  sor- 
row. His  heart  and  his  hand  and  his  house  were 
open  to  all,  and  into  how  many  a  humble  dwelling 
he  brought  light  and  comfort  and  peace  !  The  world 
at  large  knew  little  of  his  work  among  the  poor  and 
solitary.  He  has  kindled  the  fire  on  many  a  cold 
hearthstone,  lighted  the  lamp  in  many  a  darkened 
dwelling,  clothed  many  a  poor  shivering  child,  and 
poured  oil  and  wine  into  many  a  bleeding  soul.  The 
poor  man  cried  when  he  heard  that  Phillips  Brooks 
had  gone,  and  the  desolate  widow  felt  that  there  was 
nothing  left  for  her  but  God. 

In  speaking  more  directly  of  his  religious  charac- 
ter, I  am  reminded  that  he  would  probably  say  there 
is  no  such  thing  as  separating  one's  Christian  life 


BISHOP  BROOKS.  221 

from  the  rest  of  his  life ;  which  is,  in  a  certain  sense, 
undoubtedly  true.  At  the  same  time  he  would 
allow  that  there  are  certain  qualities  in  our  lives 
which   are    more    distinctly  religious   than   others. 

He  was  a  very  transparent  man,  and  you 
could  see  through  him  without  seeing  anything  to 
offend  your  eye.  As  we  were  once  conversing  con- 
fidentially in  his  study,  the  case  of  one  of  our  clergy 
was  alluded  to  who  had  exposed  himself  to  public 
censure,  when,  after  a  momentary  pause,  he  said 
with  a  great  deal  of  solemnity,  "  How  wretched  I 
should  be  if  I  felt  that  I  was  carrying  about  with  me 
any  secret  which  I  would  not  be  willing  that  all  the 
world  should  know  !  "  The  man  who  could  say  that 
must  have  always  walked  very  close  to  God.  I  think 
that  his  singular  optimism  and  habitual  cheerfulness 
may  be  attributed  in  a  great  measure  to  his  having 
had  from  the  beginning  but  little  actual  experience 
of  sin. 

No  one  can  tell  what  precise  form  his  personal 
relation  to  God  assumes,  but  it  is  not  probable  that 
he  was  ever  called  to  undergo  any  of  those  severe 
ordeals  and  terrible  agonies  of  conscience  which  some 
endure.  It  would  rather  seem  as  if  he  had  left 
himself  in  God's  hands,  without  much  concern  as 
to  his  own  personal  salvation,  and  given  his  thoughts 
almost  entirely  to  the  salvation  of  others.  His 
devotion  must  have  been  instinctive,  rather  than 
formal ;  he  needed  no  outward  accessories  in  order 
to  find  his  way  to  God.  There  was  not  a  tinge  of 
asceticism  in  his  nature ;  he  was  simply  *'  temperate 
in  all  things,"  enjoying  to  the  full  all  the  good 
things  that  God  had  provided  for  him  in  this  world, 


222  REMINISCENCES. 

but  never  allowing  anything  to  come  between  him 
and  the  better  things  hereafter.  His  career  was 
one  of  unbroken  prosperity  from  the  first,  rising 
steadily  higher  and  higher  all  the  time — not  the 
sort  of  career  that  one  might  think  would  be  favor- 
able to  the  cultivation  of  some  of  the  Christian 
graces ;  and  yet  these  graces  grew  and  flourished  in 
spite  of  all — the  grace  of  humility,  and  unselfish- 
ness, and  unworldliness,  and  restfulness. 

How  many  souls  he  has  comforted  !  How  many 
wandering  sheep  he  has  brought  back  to  the  fold  ! 
How  many  perplexities  he  has  relieved !  How 
many  souls  he  has  lifted  up  into  a  purer  and  serener 
atmosphere,  and  rescued  from  the  contaminations 
of  the  world  and  the  flesh  !  How  many  he  must 
have  found  waiting  for  him  in  Paradise ! 

And  now  his  last  word  has  been  spoken,  and  he 
sleeps  in  silence.  Sleeps  in  silence,  so  far  as  our 
apprehension  goes,  but  he  was  never  so  living  as 
he  is  now.  Such  a  man  could  not  die.  He  has 
only  gone  to  some  grander  work  in  a  higher  sphere — 
that  is  all. 

**  Death  came  unheralded,  but  it  was  well  ; 
For  so  thy  Saviour  bore 
Kind  witness  thou  wast  meet  at  once  to  dwell 
On  His  eternal  shore  ; 
All  warning  spared, 
For  none  He  gives  whose  hearts  are  for  prompt  change 
prepared." 


THE  END. 


INDEX. 


Advantages  and   disadvantages  of 
being  educated  in  another  com- 
munion, 31 
Alexander,  Dr.  Archibald,  24 
Alexander,  Professor  Addison,  29 
Altars,  Stone,  in  Ohio,  130 
Anarchy,  Danger  of,  150 
Ancient  and   Honorable  Artillery 

Company,  105 
Architecture,  Church,  in  1836,  40 
Assistant  to  Bishop  Eastburn,  97 
Atkinson,  Bishop,  134 
iVtmosphere  of  Connecticut,  Con- 
servative, 108 
Atwater,  Professor  Lyman  H.,  13 
Authority,  The  ground  of,  58 

Bedell,  Dr.,  35 
Bishops,  Multiplication  of,  45 
Boston,  Life  in,  66  ;  Return  to,  93 
Bristed,  Rev.  John,  181 
Bristol,  Prayer  meetings  in,  183 
Brooks,  Bishop,  206  ;  Amount  of 
work  accomplished  by,  207  ;  As  a 
preacher,  212  ;  Election  of,  211  ; 
Memorial  discourse,   216  ;    Per- 
sonal   characteristics    of,     209, 
210,  211 
Brotherhoods,  48 
Brownell,  Bishop,  109 
Burgess,  Rev.  Dr.  George,  no 
Bushnell,  Dr.  Horace,  116  ;  Char- 
acteristics  of,    118  ;    Versatility 
of,   117 
Butler,  Dr.  Clement  M. ,  and  Bishop 
Eastburn,  97 

Cambridge,  Experience  in,  i6g 
Ceremonial,  Changes  in,  41 


Change  of  tone  in  the  Church,  53 

Chapman,  Rev.  Dr.  George  T., 
176 

Chase,  Bishop,  173  ;  Character- 
istics of,  174 

Childhood,  Impressions  of,  3 

Christ  Church,  Hartford,  Rector 
of,  120  ;  Cradle  of  bishops,  120 

Christian  Unity,  Committee  on, 
192 

Church,  Destiny  of  the,  64  ;  In 
Philadelphia,  party  lines  in,  78 

Church  of  the  Advent,  Boston.  loi; 
Bishop  Eastburn's  visit  to,  lOl 

Clapp,  John  Milton,  12 

Clark,  Rev.  Dr.  George  H.,  143 

Clark,  Rev.  Dr.  Samuel  A.,  129  ; 
Characteristics  of,  186  ;  Humor 
and  piety  of,  185 

Clergy,  Social  Relations  and  re- 
strictions of,  in  Philadelphia,  77 

Clerical  contemporaries  in  Phila- 
delphia, 80 

Colenso,  Bishop,  155 

College  life,  11 

Conference,    First    Pan-Anglican, 

153  . 

Committee  on  Restoration  of  Chris- 
tian Unity,  192 

Confessional  in  our  Church,  45 

Connecticut,  Four  years  in,  108 

Contemporaries,  Clerical,  in  Phila- 
delphia, 80 

Cradle  of  bishops,  120 

Crises,  Periodical,  150 

Croswell,  Rev.  Dr.  William,  74,  93 


Daguerreotypes,  First,  202 
Davis,  Bishop,  133 


223 


224 


INDEX. 


Day,  President  Jeremiah,  14 
De  Lancey,  Bishop,  133 
Destiny  of  the  Church,  64 
Diction,  Changes  in,  43 
Diocese,  Best  mode  of  handling  a, 

123 
Dioceses,  Multiplication  of,  45 
Dives  and  the  cautious  divine,  19 
Doctrines,     Fundamental,     unim- 
paired, 53 
Duchachet,  Rev.  Dr.,  83 

Early  days,  i 

Eastburn,  Bishop,  97  ;  Anecdotes 
of,  98,  99,  100  ;  As  a  preacher, 
102  ;  Characteristics  of,  99 

Election  to  Bishopric  of  Rhode 
Island,  120 

Episcopal  Charitable  Society,  Ser- 
mon before,  105 

Episcopal  Church,  in  Princeton, 
30;  Rapid  advance  of,  32  ;  Sixty 
years  ago,  32 

Evangelical  party,  57 

Exchange  of  prisoners,  142,  148 

Experience  abroad,  160 

Fasting  Communion,  44 
Fitch,  Dr.,  18 
Forbes,  Rev.  Dr.,  90 
Fourth  of  July  oration  in  Provi- 
dence, 194 
Fulham,  Purple  dinner  at,  164 

Gardiner,  Dr.,  34 

General  Convention  in  St.  An- 
drew's, Philadelphia,  89 ;  at 
Richmond,  124,  135 

General  Councils,  Authority  of, 
156 

Generations,  Passing  away  of,  137 

Golconda,  Fate  of  the,  5 

Goodrich,  Professor,  17 

Gray,  Bishop,  155,  157 

Grace  Church,  Boston,  73 

Griswold,  Bishop,  66,  67 ;  Char- 
acteristics of,  73  ;  Death  of,  73  ; 
Habits  in  travel,  69  ;  Sharpness 
in  rebuke,  70 

Ground  of  authority,  58 

Guilds  and  societies,  50,  51 


Hallam,  Rev.  Dr.,  177 

Hare,  Rev.  Professor,  30 

Hartford,  Accepts  a  call  to,  108  ; 
Episcopal  Church  in,  no 

Hawks,  Dr.,  35  ;  Arraignment  and 
defense  of,  91 

Highlands,  Service  in  Scotch,  171 

Hodge,  Dr.  Charles,  28 

Hopkins,  Bishop,  127  ;  at  Pan- 
Anglican  Conference,  154,  156 

House  of  Bishops,  124 

Interview  with  old  Congregational 

minister,  62 
Inventions,  Curious,  145 
Ives,  Bishop,  Sermon  at  General 

Convention,  90 

Johns,  Bishop,  133 

Junior  class  ball  in  1830,  14 

Kemper,  Bishop,  32,  133 
Kenyon  College,  173 
King's  Chapel  of  Boston,  74 
Kingsley,  Professor,  17 
Kip,  Bishop,  134  ;  College  life  of, 
14 

Lafayette,  Visit  to,  in  1823,  7 

Lay,  Bishop,  137 

Lecture  on  "  The  next  fifty  years," 

Extracts  from,  197 
Lectures,  Titles  of,  200 
Lee,  Bishop  Alfred,  134 
Lee,  Bishop  H.  W.,  134,  175 
Lee,  General,  Letter  of,  139 
Lincoln,   President,  140  ;  Conver- 
sations with,  141,  142,  143 
Literature  of  the  Church,  37 
Littlejohn,  Rev.  Dr.,  124 
Langley,  Archbishop,  153,  154 

Mansel,  Dean,  167 

Massachusetts  Diocesan  Conven- 
tion, 1836,  66 

Matches,  First,  201 

Material  Improvements,  201 

Mcllvaine,  Bishop,  128  ;  Chaplain 
at  West  Point,  129  ;  Writings 
of,  129 

Meade,  Bishop,  125 


INDEX. 


225 


Memorial  Sermon,  Bishop  Brooks', 
210,  212 

Miller,  Dr.  Samuel,  25 

Minister,  Interview  with  old  Con- 
gregational, 62 

Mission  Priests,  48 

Monroe,  President,  Reception  of,  7 

Morton,  Rev.  Dr.,  80 

Newton,  Dr.  Richard,  81 

Next  fifty  years,  Lecture  on,  195 

Odenheimer,  Bishop,  82 

Olmstead,  Professor,  17 

Otey,  Bishop,  133 

Outward  aspect    of    the    Church, 

Changes  in,  40 
Oxford,  Experience  in,  170 
Oxford  Movement,  Discussion  of, 

90 

Pan-Anglican    Conference,     First, 

153 
Parker,  Peter,  13 
Parochial  Missions,  49 
Parties,  Extinction  of  old,  56 
Pastoral  Letter,  Committee  on,  in 

1859.  135 
Pastoral  relation.  Length  of,  46 
Philadelphia,      Removal    to,    77  ; 

Prayer  meetings  in,  79 
Polk,    Bishop,    133  ;     Death     of, 

149 
Porter,  Noah,  ii 
Potter,  Bishop  Alonzo,  Election  of, 

87  ;  Characteristics  of,  88 
Potter,  Bishop  Horatio,  134 
Prayer   Meetings,    79  ;  in   Bristol, 

183 
Princeton,    Seminary  life  in,   20  ; 

Teaching,  21 
Private  confession,  45 
Puritanism,  Reaction  from,  32 
Purple  dinner  at  Fulham,  164 
Purpose  of  biography,  i 

Quahog  shell  distinction  in  grave- 
yard, 148 
Quiet  days,  49 

Ramsay,  Dean,  171 


Reaction  from  Puritanism,  32 
Removal   to   Rhode  Island,    I20 ; 

To  Philadelphia,  77 
Retreats,  49 
Reunion  of  bishops  after  the  War, 

136 
Richmond,  Rev.  James  Cook,  178  ; 

Extract  from  sermon  of,  180 
Roman  Catholic  bishop  of  Boston, 

190 
Rome,  Secessions  of  clergy  to,  122 
Routine  of  clerical  life,    Changes 

in,  51 

Salvation,  Broader  view  of,  61 
Sanitary    commission,     138  ;    Dis- 
tinguished members  of,  138 
Schliemann,      Dr.,     at     Lambeth 

Palace,  165 
Seminary  life  in  Princeton,  20 
Sermon   in    Hyde   Park,  London, 

160 
Sersdces,  Changes  in,  41,  43 
Shaw,  Rev.  Samuel  B.,  66 
Silliman,  Professor,  16 
Sisterhoods,  48 
Smith,  Bishop,  134 
Society    for    Propagation    of    the 

Gospel,  Sermon  before,  160 

Sparrow,  Dr.,  on  Bunker  Hill,  106 

St.  Andrew's  Church,  Philadelphia, 

30,  40  ;  General  convention  in, 

89  ;    Prayer   meetings     in,    79  ; 

Rector  of,  77 

St.   George's  Church,  New  York, 

60  ;  Societies  in,  60 
St.  Lawrence  Church,  London,  158 
St.  Paul's  Church,  Boston,  75 
St.   Stephen's  Church,  Providence, 

71 

Statistics    of     diocese    of    Massa- 
chusetts, 1836,  66;  1894,  66 
Stone,  Dr.  John  S.,  75,  94 
Style  of  preaching.  Changes  in,  54 
Sumner,  Charles,  197 
Sunday  in  the  olden  time,  7 
Sunday  school.  The  ancient,  9 
Sunday  services   at  St.   Andrew's, 

Philadelphia,  80 
Synod  of    Dort   and   Dr.    Samuel 
Miller,  27 


226 


INDEX. 


Tait,  Bishop,  165 
Text-books  at  Princeton,  22 
Thirl  wall,  Bishop,  157 
Thompson,  Archbishop,  166 
Titles  of  lectures,  200 
Town,  The  old  maritime,  5 
Tribute,  Poetical,    to   Dr.  Wash- 
burn, 115 
Trinity  Church,  Boston,  75,  97 
Tyng,  Dr.,  68,  70,  129  ;  Anecdotes 
of,  84,  85,  87 

Vinton,    Dr.    Alexander  H. ,   94 ; 

Characteristics  of,  95,  96 
Vows,  Perpetual,  49 

Wain  Wright,  Dr.,  75 
War,  The  late,  138 
War  hospital  on  Narragansett  Bay, 
147 


Washburn,  Dr.  E.  A.,  m  ;  Re- 
fused ordination  by  Bishop 
Eastburn,  112  ;  Preaching  of, 
114  :  Poetical  tribute  to,  115 

Wealth,  Dangers  of,  150 

Webster,  Daniel,  36 

Wells,  Rev.  E.  M.  P.,  93 

Whitehouse,  Bishop,   155 

Whitfield  and  Cornelius  Winter,  i 

Whittingham,  Bishop,  130  ;  Char- 
acteristics of,  131 

Wilberforce,  Bishop,  157,  163  ; 
Private  traits  of,  167,  168 

Wilmer,  Bishop,  187  ;  Reads 
burial  service  over  himself,  188 

Winchester  Cathedral,  Preaches 
in,  162 

Woonsocket,  222 

Yale  College  in  1827,  11 

York,  Missionary  meeting  in,  169 


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